45 East Evans St
by CrackedCrow
Summary: When Merlin first found the card, he thought it was a prank. Less than a year later, he was a wanted criminal, and life had never been better. Now You See Me AU
1. Prologue

**AN: I know, I know. I haven't updated any of my other stories in almost a year. I get it. I'm just having a really had time writing for DP anymore. I'm not here to make excuses, however. I want to start off by saying, this was never meant to be an actual story. It was originally a writing exercise, just something to help me focus while I transitioned meds. Well, it certainly accomplished that. The whole story was written in five days, as well as one round of editing. Unlike every other story I've posted, this one is written down to the last word. I'm only posting the first chapter now, because I want to edit the rest some more. (If anyone would be interested in helping, please PM me. I would greatly appreciate it.)**

 **I also find it incredibly amusing that this is the first Merlin story I'm posting. I've been a fan of Merlin for years, and writing for it for almost as long. I've never, obviously, posted any of them until now, though. As for Now You See Me, I saw the movie for the first time a few weeks ago, and for some reason every scene stuck in my memory with almost 100% accuracy. That's never happened to me, so I decided to utilize it, as mentioned above, as a way to keep my focus and practice my writing skills.**

 **Though this first chapter follows the script almost word for word, the story does begin to deviate, and I can promise that, even if you've seen the movie, you will be surprised. I also promise that the quality of the writing itself gets better as the story goes on, though I will say again that I'm still editing. Also, the current title and description are placeholders. Feel free to offer ideas.**

 **Hope you enjoy.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own** ** _Merlin_** **or** ** _Now You See Me,_** **their characters, places or events. All rights belong to their respective owners/creators.**

 **Edit- WOW, I only posted this half an hour ago, and I've already had to fix the formatting. Sorry.**

 **Edit 2- This chapter has been edited and updated.**

* * *

Merlin Emrys was having a good day. He had made almost two hundred dollars so far, Freya had called, and he had met up with his mom for lunch. He was currently working the street near Central Park. The air was dark and cold, and his audience huddled around him in large coats. It was late spring, and ice coated the ground. Merlin's breath fogged in front of him as he shuffled cards for a smiling blonde.

She grinned in a way he thought was supposed to be flirty. Merlin ignored her, instead starting his painstakingly memorized monolog. "Come in close. Closer."

The woman rolled her eyes playfully, but took a step closer, until she was mere inches away from the cards.

"Because the more you think you see," Merlin continued, meeting the eyes of those in the first row, "The easier it'll be to fool you. Because what is seeing? You're looking, but what you're really doing is filtering, interpreting, searching for meaning." Merlin's audience was watching him closely, hanging on every word. No one paid attention to the cards he still shuffled between his hands. "My job is to take that most precious of gifts you've given me, your attention, and use it against you."

Merlin let that linger in the air for a moment, before turning back to the blonde. "I'm going to flip through this deck, and I want you to see one card. Not this one," he showed the bottom of the deck, "That's too obvious. Pay close attention."

And giving his best showman's smile, he shuffled the deck. "That was too fast, I'll do it again. Are you ready?"

The woman nodded happily, so he shuffled again, letting his finger linger a millisecond longer on the seven of diamonds. "Now did you see one? Do you have one in mind?"

"Yes."

Merlin spread the cards, presenting the faces to the audience. "Do you see your card here?"

"No." the woman admitted.

"That's because you're looking too closely. And what have I been telling you all night? The closer you look..."

"The less you see." The audience chorused. Merlin grinned and threw his cards into the air, letting them flutter down around him as the skyscraper behind him illuminated. The crowd gasped in awe, then cheered as a pattern appeared- the seven of diamonds.

* * *

Alator Catha was having a good day. He had been recognized by an old fan, he had gotten a free drink from the waitress, and he had been able to sell a handful of his DVD's. To end the day, a skeptic and his wife had approached his table at a cafe in Chicago and asked for a demonstration.

"Now look into my eyes. And sleep." The woman instantly collapsed into his arms. He whispered in her ear for a moment. "Okay. And..." The woman woke up and stood alert. Her husband rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. Alator grinned. He loved scaring skeptics, and had quite a few tricks to do so. But he had to build up to it first.

He pulled a tenner from his pocket. "If you can get this bill from me, you can have it." The woman started forward, but her arms locked in place. She grinned, amazed.

"Go ahead." Alator smiled charmingly. "Take it. It's yours." The woman huffed a laugh. Her husband looked annoyed.

"Alright, if you can say your name, you can have it."

The woman opened her mouth, but her tongue wouldn't move. She gave a small grunt, then stared at him in awe.

Alator laughed. "Alright, just hang tight a sec. I'm gonna take a little peek under the hood of your hubby's brain."

The woman nodded excitedly, but the man began to protest. Alator ignored him.

"I'm picturing... Don't tell me." Alator raised a finger to his temple. "Mm... Of course. Beach, cocktails... Florida!" He snapped his fingers.

The man faltered. "Look, it was a business trip."

"I mean, it is a kind of business." Alator shrugged. "Maybe the oldest business."

The man fumbled for a reply, then turned to his wife. "You know what, Honey Bee, let's-"

"She can't move, mate." Alator narrowed his eyes, and decided the man wasn't ashamed enough. "You're thinking of a woman's name. A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J-" The man's eyebrow twitched. "J? Jean, Jane, Janet-"

His brow twitched again. Alator raised his. "Who's Janet?"

The woman cleared her throat, and Alator turned to her. "You know Janet?" The woman, smiling, nodded.

Alator felt his heart plummet. "It's not your best friend, is it?" He hoped his voice hadn't betrayed his emotions. The woman didn't seem to notice. She excitedly mouthed, 'sister'. Dread pooled in Alator's gut. "Your sister?"

The now terrified man whispered, "No, please!", and Alator knew for certain.

"Her sister? Oh, my god." He glared at the man. "You weren't away on business, you were away on Janet!"

The woman gaped at her husband, who muttered, "No."

"You're wife's sister!" Alator would have kept going, but the woman was slowly turning gray, and struggling with her frozen arms to hit her husband. "Okay, we need to move over here, because it seems like she's a little bit upset right now." He grabbed the man's shoulder and pulled him a few feet to the side. "Do you want this to go away?"

The man glanced away, angry and ashamed. "Yes," he growled.

"Pull out your wallet. C'mon, get it out."

The man glared, but handed Alator the wallet. "Do you shake down everybody like this?"

"No, only the special few." Alator smirked, then pulled out a handful of bills from between the leather. "Two hundred seem fair?" The man froze, and Alator decided that no, it wasn't enough. "You know what? This is a big deal. Let's go two-fifty."

The man paled, but the spark in his eyes never died. "You're a stick-up artist."

"Yeah, of course." He turned back to the woman. "Okay. And sleep!" The woman slumped. "Now, when I snap my fingers, you won't remember any of this." Alator turned to the man. "And you, Warren Beatty," he slammed his hand onto the man's forehead. "Every time you see or even think of Janet, you're gonna picture me naked. And that's not a pretty sight."

"Yeah." The man seemed scared, finally.

"And... you're wide awake!" The woman stood tall, eyes open and alert. She looked a bit confused. Alator did his best to look apologetic. "Well, we did the best we could, but some people just aren't to be hypnotized."

* * *

Mordred Clarent was having a good day. He had gotten the chance to flirt with a cute girl admiring his tricks, he had managed to confuse a mugger into leaving him alone, and he had had a wonderful lunch at Mel's Deli. He had just boarded the ferry with a spoon in hand, and ran to the upper deck.

Mordred found a good spot, and stood tall. "Ladies and gentlemen! I am the next great magician, and I will give one hundred dollars to whoever can tell me how this trick is done."

His audience perked up, large coats rustling. Mordred smirked internally. Offering them money was a wonderful way to grab their attention.

"I have an ordinary spoon from Mel's Deli, right here in Brooklyn. Check it out." Mordred showed every angle of the spoon. "Now, everyone, please pay very close attention. Because I'm about to bend this spoon with my mind."

He gripped the middle of the spoon between his thumb and forefinger, rubbing as the spoon slowly bent in half. The crowd gasped, and some shuffled closer. Mordred smirked, and handed the spoon to the man closest to him. "Thank you, thank you. Pass that around."

And then suddenly someone was gripping his wrist, reaching into his sleeve and back pocket. The man pulled out the other spoons Mordred had tucked away.

"What's this?" The man smirked. "Looks like we got a spoon and a stem."

The crowd booed, disappointed.

Mordred was annoyed now. How dare this man? "I've got other tricks-"

"Or you could give me my hundred bucks, like you said you would."

Mordred hid his frown and pulled out his wallet. He passed a hundred dollar bill into the man's hand, snuck his wallet into his own pocket, and discreetly unbuckled his watch. He said politely, "You have a very good eye, sir."

The man preened, and Mordred hurried away. Just as he was about to reach the dock, the man shouted from above him. Damn. Mordred had hoped he'd have a bit longer. He jumped onto the dock and started running.

* * *

Freya Bas was having a good day. She had managed to get some rest after her flight, she had talked to Merlin on the phone for about an hour, and tonight's show had sold out. She was just getting started on her last trick. "Okay, Los Angeles, are we ready to end this thing?"

The crowd cheered. God, Freya loved that noise. It always sent chills down her spine, and energized her no matter how tired she was.

"Yeah! Alright, when that timer hits zero-" Freya gestured to the giant clock above her head, next to a smaller tank filled with grey fish, "a tank full of flesh-eating piranhas will fall from above."

The crowd cheered again as Freya slipped out of her stage clothes to reveal a flashy swimsuit. She slipped a pair of shackles on her wrist and gave a lecherous smile. "A lady has to have handcuffs, right girls?"

Freya stepped onto the platform above the tank and the crowd counted down, then suddenly she was in the water. She smiled at the crowd, and started to fiddle with her shackles. After a few seconds, her right wrist was free. Now for the tricky part. If she wasn't careful, she might drown herself.

Freya smiled and waved at the crowd, who burst into cheers. Then she swam to the bottom of the tank and yanked on the chain she had previously jammed into the bottom of the tank, her actions growing increasingly more frantic. She swam back up and hit the side of the tank, screaming enough to draw concern from the audience, but being careful not to waste air.

The crowd started to scream. "She's serious, she can't get out!"

One man took charge, and grabbed a metal pipe from behind the seats. "Get out of the way! Move, move!" He swung the pipe, but it rebounded off the tank.

Freya had been counting down the seconds, and realized that she was out of time. She finally yanked the chain free and swam to the top, gasping. And then the piranhas fell.

Freya's assistants slipped dye into the water, and the audience screamed. While everyone was distracted, Freya slipped out amid the torrent of fish and red water, and one of her assistants helped her sneak around the commotion until she stood at the back of the crowd. She nodded her thanks, then took a deep breath and screamed, "Whoever thought of this is a sick sadist!"

Silence. The crowd stared at her in awe, and then they were cheering louder than ever before.

* * *

Merlin walked into his apartment with his friend Will. They had known each other since kindergarten, and usually got along almost scarily well, but right now the athletic young man was being a bit of a brat.

"Oh, _Merlin_ , I'm your biggest fan. _Merlin_ , kiss me all over my gorgeous body! What else can your hands do, _Merlin_?"

Merlin rolled his eyes, but couldn't help the blush rising to his cheeks. "Close the door. It's a bad building."

Will did. "So, how did you do it? You know, the card on the side of the building?"

"Trade secret."

"Yeah, alright. You bribed someone, didn't you." It wasn't a question.

Merlin grinned over his shoulder. "Tower electrician."

"How much?" Will quirked an eyebrow.

"Fifty bucks."

"Hm. Cheap guy." Will collapsed on the ragged couch and grabbed the TV remote as Merlin slipped off his jacket. Something fluttered to the floor.

Will was speaking again, but Merlin wasn't listening. He picked up the tarot card. _The Magician._ He flipped it over and his heart skipped a beat. On the back was a delicate black eye. Merlin recognized that symbol, he had researched it for years.

He felt like he couldn't breathe, so he turned his attention to the rest of the card. Underneath the eye were four lines of script. _March 29, 4:44 p.m., 45 East Evans St, NY, NY_. One week from today.

"You need to leave."

Will stopped mid-sentence. "What? Merlin, you invited me over!" Then he noticed his friend's attention was elsewhere. "What is it?"

"If I'm right... I might have just achieved every magician's dream."

* * *

One week later, Merlin was on his way to East Evans Street. He was nervous. After all, there was no guarantee that the card was real, and not just a cruel prank.

Merlin was climbing out of his taxi when he saw a familiar face. "Freya?"

Freya was a tiny woman, and one of Merlin's oldest friends. They had met in fourth grade, bonding over their love of magic. They had been practically attached at the hip since.

Merlin had done a show with her once. Only once, however. They had quickly learned, that despite of their long-lasting friendship (and perhaps a bit more), the two didn't perform very well together. They were both too stubborn about their own showmanship and technique (while Freya was an escape artist, Merlin tended more towards illusions and cardistry), and neither had been willing to budge.

So in the end, they had decided that they were better off as solo acts, and became friendly rivals, fighting for audiences until Freya decided to move to California about two months ago, hoping to get better reception for her shows.

The brunette spun on her heel, beaming. "Merlin!"

Merlin grinned back. He asked, "Did you get a card too?"

"Yep! " She chirped. "Really though, Em, it's good to see you again."

"You too." Merlin relaxed. "I've missed you." He really had. They talked almost every day, of course, but after practically growing up together, it was hard not seeing each other's face every day. He wanted to catch up with her, despite already knowing all about LA from her phone calls, but then he remembered the card. He gestured to the dilapidated building. "Right, so, I was going to go scout the place out first, but I wouldn't say no to company."

Freya's dark eyes gleamed. "Of course."

They chatted as they entered the building. "I saw the recording of your performance in LA. It was great, but don't you think it might have been a bit morbid?"

"I loved it, the audience loved it, that's all that matters." Freya approached the staircase and began to climb.

Merlin followed. "Aren't you worried about getting sued? What if someone in the audience had fainted or something?"

"Which is why they all signed waivers when they bought their tickets. Really, Merlin, I thought it all through. It's fine."

Merlin snorted and opened his mouth to reply, but they had reached the top of the stairs by now, and a tall bald man stood in front of the door. The three stood in silence for a moment, and then the man spoke.

"So apparently none of us was the only one chosen. Let me be the first to kick my ego to the curb."

"Uh, yeah." Merlin shuffled discreetly between him and Freya. "Who are you?"

"Alator Catha. I'm assuming you've never heard of me, judging from your blank stares." Alator nodded sagely. "That's fine. And who might you be?"

Merlin wasn't too keen to answer- they didn't know this man, after all, and there were no other witnesses around- but Freya had no such reservations. "Freya Bas," She placed a hand on Merlin's shoulder. "And this is Merlin Emrys."

"Ah. How long have you been together?"

Freya and Merlin blushed in sync. "No, no! Just friends."

"We grew up together, that's all."

The man grinned and opened his mouth to reply, when something scuffled on the stairway. All three turned. Stepping onto the landing was a younger man with ice blue eyes staring in awe.

"No way... Emrys?" He took a step forward, still staring at Merlin. "Dude, I've seen everything that you have ever done. You're like... I idolize you, seriously. It's so nice to meet you. I'm Mordred, by the way."

Merlin smiled shakily. "You too."

"Question."

Mordred's head whipped around so fast his neck cracked. He seemed surprised that there were other people around.

"Did you get one of these?" Alator held up _The Emperor._

Mordred presented a card in return. "Yeah. _Death_."

" _The Chariot_." Freya nodded.

" _The Magician_. So, are we supposed to wait around for someone?"

"The door's locked," Alator said. "Otherwise I would have gone in earlier."

Mordred smiled dangerously and reached into his pocket. "Oh, no. Nothing's ever locked." He kneeled in front of the door, poking a small wire into the keyhole and wiggling. After a moment, Merlin heard a click and the door swung open.

The air in the apartment was dusty, as were the walls and the floor. Merlin carefully picked his way into the main room, the others following behind. The floor was wooden, and creaked when stepped on.

"Man, it's freezing in here!" Mordred complained. Merlin silently agreed. They reached the main room, and on the floor lay a single white rose, and a small folded paper. A glass vase sat off to the side. "What's that?"

"I don't know," Merlin said, picking up the paper. The inside read ' **Now You Don't** '. He passed it to Alator.

Freya spun the rose stem around her fingers. "'A rose by any other name..."

Merlin laughed at his friend's antics as she plopped the rose stem-first into the vase. Water instantly streamed across the floor. "Whoa, what's happening?" The water bled into an indented shape in the ground, which filled quickly. Suddenly, the indented sunk deeper into the floor, and smoke rose from the floorboards.

"Merlin, did you do this?" Freya turned to him, accusing.

He couldn't really blame her. He had pulled similar tricks as a child. But still... "No. Did you?"

Mordred shook his head. "I wish."

It was beginning to get hard to see. Merlin turned to search for a light switch. Mordred pulled out a flashlight, and the small beam it gave off was enough for Merlin to find the switch. He scurried over and flipped it on, but nothing happened. "Electricity's out."

"Well, let's check." Alator reached to the small hanging light above his head and twisted a light bulb. Instantly, light shone through the room, but instead of bulbs, it came from multiple small projectors imbedded in the walls and ceiling. The light streams met in the middle of the room, creating a hologram. Merlin saw files and names, building schematics, magic tricks and bank accounts.

Freya gasped. "Blueprints!"

"Who do you think did this?" Mordred whispered.

Merlin couldn't hold back a grin. "I don't know, but I really want to meet them. This is... incredible."

"It's a show." They turned to Alator, who looked just as awed as they were.

Glancing back at the hologram, Merlin realized he was right. These were the plans for a show, one larger than he'd ever done. He read a bit more, and felt himself becoming excited. If he performed this show, followed these instructions, he could very well become the most famous illusionist in history.

Then he saw what the finale was meant to be, and Merlin grew jittery with excitement.

" _Wow_."


	2. Bank Robbed The People

**(ONE YEAR LATER)**

 **(MGM GRAND, LAS VEGAS, NEVADA)**

"Ladies and gentlemen! Alator Catha! Merlin Emrys! Freya Bas! Mordred Clarent! Nimeuh Priest and the MGM Grand proudly presents The Four Horsemen!"

The speakers were loud, and the stage lights were hot, and Merlin was getting tired. Luckily, they only had one trick left. Unluckily, it would be their hardest. And he most likely wouldn't have long to rest afterwards, either. He could see his parents and Uncle Gaius sitting in the front row. They looked so proud, and he felt a twinge of guilt. But it was far too late to back out.

Merlin started towards the center of the stage as Alator started off their finale.

"Thank you! Tonight, we would like to try something that will, well, set us a bit apart. For our final trick, we're going to do something never before seen on a Las Vegas stage."

"Or any stage, for that matter!" Mordred added.

Merlin had reached center-stage. "Ladies and gentlemen, tonight... we are going to rob a bank."

Oh lord. No going back now. He was lucky he was already so pale, because his face was on the big screens behind him, and if he were any tanner the audience might notice something was wrong. Instead they cheered. Loudly.

"That's a lot of excitement for a crime!" Merlin smiled.

"I'm getting excited! How about you people?" Freya's kitten heels clicked on the stage as she circled the center podium, effectively drawing attention to herself.

Merlin felt a hint of relief, glad to have a moment to catch his breath without his face being projected on the screen. The cheering was beginning to give him a migraine, and the heat was making it hard to breathe.

He loosened his tie just slightly, then called the audience back to him. "Okay, okay." Merlin chuckled. "Now, please, please, settle down."

The crowd quieted.

"Now, who here has a bank they'd like us to rob?"

People started clamoring for attention, and for a moment Merlin was honestly stunned. "That's a lot of people with a vendetta." He had to remind himself to stay on script. "So we'll choose one at random then! My associates will make sure it's random, right?"

Merlin glanced at Alator, who was offering the first bowl of numbers to a woman off his side of the stage. She pulled out a marked ping pong ball and handed it to Alator. Because Merlin was watching so closely, he could see Alator switch the ball with another up his sleeve before throwing it to him. Merlin let the ball bounce twice before snatching it out of the air.

"Thanks, Alator. Alright, Section B! Where are you?"

The section next to his family waved and stood, and the whole audience cheered.

Merlin smiled, amused. "I don't know why all of you are cheering, it's just them!"

Mordred caught his eye, and threw him another ball.

"Okay, we are looking at Row Number 5! Prepare yourselves! And Freya, could I have a random seat number please?" He smiled.

Freya grinned back and tossed him the last ball, bowing afterward. Merlin pretended to glance at it. Really, he already had the number memorized, as did the rest of his team. "Lucky number 13!"

The audience cheered, and Merlin quickly glanced at his teammates. They all seemed to be brimming with nervous energy, and he felt the same.

"B-5-13! Where are you? Sir, please stand up!"

An extremely short man stood on his chair, and the audience applauded.

"There you are!" Merlin injected his voice with almost lethal amounts of cheer. "Hi! Could you just confirm for me that this is, in fact, your seat? B-5-13?"

The man glanced at his seat number, then nodded excitedly. His smile was blinding.

"Wonderful!" Merlin tossed the balls away carelessly. "Now could you please tell us your name, and the name of your bank?" His teammates had discreetly wandered closer, and Merlin felt a tinge of anxiety ebb away.

"My name is Grettir Davis. And my bank is Credit Republicain de Paris."

The man had a strong French accent, but of course, Merlin had been expecting that. He faked a wince.

"French. Okay, uh... we were hoping for something a little more local, a kind of mom-and-pop credit union with no security."

The audience laughed, no one suspecting anything. Maybe they could actually pull this off.

"But that's fine. A promise is a promise. Could you please come up to the stage, and we'll rob your bank!"

The crowd cheered and applauded, and Grettir happily began his trek toward the stage.

Merlin took a deep breath. "And while he does that..."

The audience quieted, and he felt a flash of relief that he might actually still have his voice at the end of this.

"There is someone here tonight," Merlin continued. "Without whom we would just be four magicians working the circuit, trying to get... well, actually, trying to get here. You probably know this woman, if not from one of the many, many companies she puts her name on." He gestured to a balcony seat. "She is our friend, she is our benefactor, Ms. Nimeuh Priest! Please, stand up."

Nimeuh stood up, looking pleased with the attention. The audience cheered and applauded, quieting after a moment. Nimeuh moved to sit back down.

"Actually, please stay standing for a minute, Nim." Merlin quickly interrupted.

She seemed annoyed by the nickname, but stayed standing.

"I just want to say that, when we came to Ms. Priest, we promised that, as a unit, we could become the biggest name in magic."

Freya took over for him. "So we wanted to say 'thank you.' And by the way, Nim, you'll notice on the sign out front, we made sure to put your name on top." She smiled charmingly.

An usher had reached Nimeuh's seat by now, and he passed her a microphone.

"If you turn out to be as good as you think you are," Nimeuh's smile was poisonous. "Dear girl, that won't be necessary much longer."

Freya laughed, and cautioned, "We haven't done our closer yet! Why don't you watch it, and then you can decide for yourself."

Nimeuh nodded serenely and passed the microphone back.

Merlin pretended to ignore the chill down his back, and said, "Ladies and gentlemen, Nimeuh Priest! Thank you."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mordred approach with the helmet they had hidden under a stage door, and from the other side, Alator leading Grettir towards center-stage.

"And of course," Merlin gestured, "Once again, the Cardinal of Clairvoyance, Alator Catha."

Alator nodded and presented Grettir. "Now, Grettir, what Mordred is bringing to the stage now is what we in the magic world call a teleportation helmet. You will need to wear this, as it will allow you to literally fold through space and time, to your bank in the... 8th?"

"9th arrondissement."

Alator smiled. "Yeah, that's it. Now once you are there, we will be able to speak with you through the helmet."

He nodded to Mordred, who smirked and jammed the helmet on Grettir's head. The little man winced.

"Oh, my god," Alator cried. "That's beautiful."

The audience chuckled and cheered.

"It has the added attraction of being very stylish. Probably the only time the French will learn from America on that front. Isn't that a *beautiful* piece of headgear?" Alator smiled wide.

Merlin rolled his eyes, but smiled. He stepped forward, having retrieved his cards. "Now, before you go anywhere." He fanned the deck. "Pick a card, any card. No, not that one."

Grettir pulled back.

"No, sorry, that was a joke. You can take that one if you want."

Their volunteer pointed to a card.

"Okay. That one? Show it to your friends in Section B, but not to us."

Grettir presented the face of the card to Section B, and Merlin felt a twinge of satisfaction. The trick was working, they were almost done.

"Okay, great," he passed Grettir a pen. "Now if you could just sign your name, then put the card in your pocket."

Grettir happily did so.

Freya stepped up. "And now for one tiny detail." She pulled a shimmering cloth from her vest and twirled it. The cloth unfolded, growing bigger and swirling in a circling, disguising the 'teleporter' that rose from the floor.

The audience gasped and cheered as the cloth fell away to reveal the device.

"Now, Grettir," Alator said once the crowd had quieted. "Let's step into this cockamamie contraption. It's 11:50pm here in Vegas. That's 8:50am in Paris. Your bank opens in less than ten minutes."

Alator and Mordred pulled down the curtain around Grettir. They had built it to fit a regular sized man, of course. Doing otherwise would be too suspicious.

Merlin started the countdown, and had to remind himself not to look at his family. "One..."

"Two..." Freya smiled.

"Three!" Mordred shouted, and lights flashed as Grettir was punted through a trap door and the device lifted off the ground. The crowd gasped, and someone in the back screamed. Merlin affected a stunned mask, and glanced at his teammates to see they had done the same.

"Grettir?" Merlin asked.

Freya sent him a confused look. "It wasn't supposed to happen like that, was it?"

"I liked that little French guy." Alator said, and the audience laughed. "Where did he go?"

Then the screen fizzled, and Grettir was there, looking confused and awed. "Wait, there he is!"

The crowd cheered, and Merlin waved a hand to shush them.

"No, no, no, no, please, please." The noise died down. "Grettir, this is Merlin Emrys, can you hear me? Are you okay?"

Grettir nodded. "Yes."

Merlin's heart sped up. They were almost finished, and then the game began. "Perfect! What do you see in there?"

"Money," came Grettir's awed response. "Is this real?"

"Yes." Merlin said smugly. "Looks like three million or so Euros' worth."

Freya sent him a warning glance, and he sobered.

"Okay, now, here's what we're going to need you to do. I want you to take the card that you signed out of your pocket, and I want you to take the ticket stub from tonight's show, and I want you to put it right there in the middle of the money."

Grettir did.

"Now drop it." Merlin struggled to keep a smile off his face. "Now, on the side of your helmet you should feel a button. Don't press it just yet! That button activates an air duct that connects Paris to Las Vegas. Okay, good, now you can press it."

Grettir did so, and Mordred chuckled.

"Alright now, Grettir, hold on tight. You might feel a bit of a vacuum."

On the screen, and below the stage, a wind tunnel pick up the cash and pulled it into a tube. Grettir gasped and smiled as the money swirled around him. And then the crowd shrieked as the cash shot from the air ducts over the seating. Loud cheering surrounded the stage as people snatched money out of the air. Merlin risked a glance at his family. They still looked stunned and proud, and Merlin only wondered how they'd feel tomorrow.

"Thank you, Grettir. Thank you everyone!" Merlin's smile was as charming as he knew how to make it. "We are The Four Horsemen!"

And then, as one, the team chorused, "Good night!"

* * *

In the 9th arrondissement of France, in the Credit Republicain de Paris, the branch manager opened the safe for her routine check. She took two steps into the room and stopped. All the money was gone.

Instead, there on the wooden pallette laid a signed playing card and a ticket stub.

* * *

The next morning, FBI Agent Arthur Pendragon's cell phone rang. He sighed and accepted the call. "Arthur Pendragon."

He listened for a second, frowning. "What? I don't think I heard you correctly. Did you say magicians?"

On the other side of the line, his friend and colleague Leon de Grance sounded flustered. "Yeah, Arthur, magicians."

"Where are you now?"

"I'm at Aria. I'm heading up there to grab 'em now. Get back to base."

And then he hung up.

Arthur tipped his head back and growled. Today was going to be awful.

* * *

 **AN: The first chapter has been edited and updated.**

 **As of now,** **this story is eleven chapters. More might be added in the course of editing.**


	3. Another Packaged Lie

Merlin had been standing at the window, and so he had seen the agents pull up to the hotel in their shiny black sedans. He had warned his teammates, so no one was surprised when the door burst open with a cry of, "FBI! Hands where I can see them. Let's go, get 'em up!"

Merlin stayed where he was and calming raised his hands. Mordred, sitting on a large chair, did the same.

Alator was sprawled on the couch, face hidden behind his book. "Uno momento."

The agent with curly red hair seemed to be in charge. He stormed towards Alator and shouted, "Let's go, get 'em up. Put the book down."

Alator sighed and placed the book on the side table. "Okay, you got me."

Freya, hearing the commotion, strode down the stairs. The agents spun towards her, guns in the air.

"Freeze! Hands in the air!"

Freya smiled softly, and raised her hands. "Do one of you guys mind giving us a hand with our bags?"

* * *

There were cameras following them, so Merlin's lips twisted into his smuggest smirk, and he assumed Freya did the same. They were being paraded through the crowded airport, and the crowd was cheering.

Not for the agents, but for _them_. The criminals. Merlin almost had to wonder how many of these people had something against the FBI.

His parents would have surely found out by now, were probably watching it on the news right this second. And Merlin regretted that, he really did, but he couldn't really do anything about it at this point.

The agent in charge- Merlin had learned that his name was Leon de Grance- was looking rather annoyed.

"Let's go." The redhead grumbled, and pushed his way through the crowd.

* * *

Taking a sip of his water bottle, Balinor settled onto the couch in the hotel room he shared with his wife and brother-in-law. He flipped on the TV, and promptly choked. He spluttered for a few seconds, staring wide-eyed and pale at the news broadcast. "Hunith!"

Unused to hearing her normally laid-back husband sound so strained, Hunith dropped her book and ran into the main room.

There, on the TV, was her son. And Freya, and Mordred and Alator. The headline read 'Magicians Under FBI Questioning'.

It took Hunith a moment to realize that her heart hadn't actually stopped.

* * *

Arthur ran up the steps of the FBI base, his face red with a mix of exertion and anger. "Boss, please tell me this is a joke."

His superior, Odin Kingston, scowled at him, and Arthur was reminded that, no, Odin never joked, and certainly not to him.

"Get Owain instead," Arthur whined.

"He's in Atlantic City."

They had reached the main office by now, so Arthur quickly scanned for a scapegoat. His eyes landed on a scruffy looking blond working at a computer. "What about Tristan? Look at him, he's just sitting there on his ass."

Tristan turned a dangerous glare on him. "Hilarious, Pendragon."

"Yeah, love you too, Bordier."

"Asshole."

"Anyway, I don't have time for this magic crap." Arthur complained as he followed Odin to an office in the back.

"This crap just pulled three million Euro out of a Parisian bank."

Arthur's brain faltered. "That's how much they got?" He muttered, astonished.

"Actually, 3.2," came from the corner.

Arthur recognized that voice, though he had to admit she had picked up an accent since they had last met. It took everything in him not to whine like a child. "Why is she here?"

Morgana stared at him, emerald eyes blazing. " _She_ happens to be the Interpol agent assigned to this case."

Arthur dropped his head into his hands. "You've gotta be kidding me. It's bad enough they have me chasing David Copperfield and friends, now I have to deal with my sister too? And _Interpol_ , really?"

"Nice to see you again too, Arthur. I'm fine, thanks for asking."

Arthur growled. "Where's the French guy?"

"I already spoke to him."

"Oh, really? You spoke to my witness before me?"

"Your witness?" Morgana pretended to look innocent. "I thought you didn't want the case. Besides, he's useless."

"Oh really? Why is that?" Arthur scowled. Really, he had much better things to do than deal with his wayward sister and a handful of stage performers.

"Because he believes their magic was real."

"Oh, he believes the magic is real? You're right, he probably is useless." Arthur scoffed. "Is it okay with Interpol if we talk to him too?"

Morgana's smile was absolutely shark-like. "Mm-hmm."

Like every time he received that smile, a chill went down Arthur's spine. He ignored it.

* * *

Grettir Davis was an extremely short man, with tan skin and dark hair. He wore a dark suit made of expensive material, and black leather boots. He also had an extremely thick French accent, and he _wouldn't stop talking._

It was this last trait that was currently giving Arthur a migraine. Really, all he wanted to do was wrap up this case as quickly as possible. But this man was making that very difficult.

"I have never stolen a thing in my life, okay?" Grettir pleaded. "I tried to give the money back, but they won't take it."

Arthur rubbed his temple. He could see his sister smirking at him and resisted the urge to yell at her. "Okay, okay, okay. Let's just say you robbed a bank-"

"I did." The Frenchman sounded absolutely heartbroken.

"Fine, fantastic. You did. But since I'm new to this, can you explain to me how you went from Las Vegas to Paris in three seconds?"

Grettir leaned forward earnestly. "With the teleportation helmet!"

Arthur took a moment to calm himself. He turned to Morgana incredulously. "Okay, what the hell is going on here?"

Morgana shrugged nonchalantly, leaning against the door. "He was hypnotized during the show. I told you, he's useless."

"Okay," Arthur sighed. "I'll deal with you when I'm done with this other bullshit."

The other agents in the room shouted "No!", as Grettir robotically climbed on to the table and began to mime playing the violin. He seemed perfectly content in his movements, and didn't seem to notice the stares he was getting. Arthur watched for a moment, dumbfounded, before sending a questioning glance at Leon.

The redhead peeked tiredly between his fingers. "During the show, half the audience was hypnotized to believe they were in the Philharmonic. I guess 'bullshit' was the trigger word."

Arthur decided that he really hated magic. He grumbled and turned to Grettir. "Okay, hey. Hey, coutez."

The little man ignored him. Morgana sniggered from her corner.

"Grettir, come on down from there." Arthur tried again. "You're not in the Philharmonic."

Again, no result. Arthur turned to his sister. "How do you say 'stop' in French?"

Morgana raised her eyebrows. "Stop."

Arthur just knew she was mocking him. "Tell him to stop," he demanded angrily.

"No, I can't. You just have to let him finish his... movement." The corners of her lips twitched and her eyes glimmered, amused.

"Okay, I need a time out." Arthur knew he was about to boil over, so he shoved his sister away from the door and stalked out, muttering, "Too many French people in one room."

He had reached the kitchenette when he heard Morgana's spiked heels clicking angrily after him.

"Arthur!"

He rolled his eyes and turned around.

"I am ordered by my bosses to provide a report," his sister continued, fuming. "And until we have one, I'm here, like it or not."

Arthur turned back and grabbed a bag of chips from the cabinet, ignoring her. It was the wrong decision.

Morgana stomped closer, gripped his ear, and forcefully turned him back to meet her gaze. Her eyes burned green fire. "You can let go of this childish grudge and we can work together, or you can continue to follow behind asking the same exact questions I'm asking. It's up to you."

Arthur would have liked to say he chose the first option. Instead, he sent Morgana his best glare, wrenched himself from her grip, and turned back to the coffeemaker.

His sister scowled. "I just flew twelve hours, after what was already a long day. And I do _not_ handle jet lag well-"

Well, Arthur already knew that, of course. He still had nightmares about the time their father brought them to St. Petersburg to meet a colleague.

"So if you want to see who can be grumpier," Morgana threatened, "I promise you, you will lose."

Arthur supposed he should heed her warning, so he quietly sipped his coffee and tried to calm the storm in his head. "Fine."

He stood and headed for the interrogation rooms. "So which one of these idiots do you want to talk to first?" Arthur stopped at the first one-way mirror. "Him?"

Inside sat Merlin Emrys, far too calm than he had any right to be. He was fiddling with a deck of cards, and Arthur wondered how he had manipulated someone into giving him them.

Morgana shrugged, considerably calmer than earlier. "Might as well start with the leader."

So they grabbed their files and assigned Leon to watch them through the mirror. Then together they walked into the interrogation room.

* * *

Even before the agents crossed the threshold of the room, Merlin felt excited. He had been sitting here for a few hours already, which he knew would have made him frantic under normal circumstances. But he was in control of this one. No one was going to arrest him, or his teammates, or even the completely innocent crew members. In another couple of hours, he'd be on his way home, as free as ever before.

So of course when the agents sat in front of him, he couldn't hold back a grin. He knew the redheaded agent was watching through the one-way mirror, so Merlin would have to be extra careful with his actions, but he had always loved a challenge.

He'd managed to get a deck of cards and a soda from an guard that had checked on him earlier. He currently had the former in his hands, shuffling clumsily. He was normally much better, but, well, he _was_ handcuffed to the table.

While the agents set down the files and pulled out their chairs, Merlin observed them. He had always had incredible intuition about people, though not quite the same way Alator did. Merlin wasn't able to look into their minds, divine their very thoughts, but he didn't really need to. What he did have was very well-honed instincts, and he was usually able to make pretty accurate assumptions about people.

Merlin watched the way the agents argued about someone named Uther. They were obviously familiar with each other, but they didn't necessarily like each other. The woman was like a dagger, sharp and feirce. The man, however, was a sword, still able to do damage, but also capable of protecting.

And yet there was still something similar between the two.

Their eyes, Merlin realized. Their eyes were the same shape, and both incredibly vibrant and full of life, though different colors. And suddenly he understood their connection.

The agents assigned to his case were _siblings._

The cards slipped between Merlin's fingers in his shock. They scattered on the table and suddenly the agents' attentions were on him. Merlin frowned and scooped up the cards, but one was too far out of his reach.

He turned his scowl back to the cards he did have, and shuffled them again. He frowned. It didn't feel right with one missing. A dainty hand with nails like claws placed the missing card in his sight. Merlin looked up. The female agent smiled, but her partner-slash-brother looked annoyed, and Merlin realized that this woman would be a dangerous enemy and a brilliant ally.

Merlin grinned back at her and shuffled the card into the deck. He fanned them, then offered them to her.

The woman's eyes twinkled and she pulled out a card, glanced at it, and slid it back into the deck.

Merlin shuffled and pulled out a random card, not actually trying to get the trick right. Maybe amusing her would work in his favor. He smiled. "Was this your card?"

The woman grinned and shook her head. "No."

Merlin smiled charmingly. "See, I knew you weren't a queen of hearts lady, and I respect that." He pulled on the handcuffs. "The trick usually works better when I'm not strapped in here, but I understand protocol."

The woman laughed, but the man scowled. "Okay, okay. Tell me. You've already claimed to be innocent, but I'm having a hard time believing that. If you had nothing to do with it, then how did the playing card get into the vault?"

"Oh, yes, that'd be... what do the kids call it these days?" Merlin tipped his head back and smirked. He couldn't help feeling smug. "Oh, yes, that's right. Magic."

The man glared venomously. "Just answer the question, okay, smartass?"

Merlin shook his head, holding back a smile. "Alright. Sorry, sorry, sorry." He pushed the soda can he had asked for earlier towards the woman with a grin. "You can keep that. Don't share with him, okay?"

He winked, and the woman laughed.

The man's scowl deepened. "Morgana, don't fall for his tricks. Listen, idiot, if you're gonna keep playing us, maybe you can answer some of my questions. Can you explain to me how a man can go from Las Vegas to Paris in seconds?"

Merlin couldn't believe it. Out of all that was going on, that's what he chose to question? Did he really believe they had sent Grettir to Paris? He leaned back condescendingly. "Well, as far as I understand it, when the man from Paris put on the magical helmet-"

The man slammed his hands on the table. " _Listen to me_. If you didn't rob that bank, then you knew about it, which makes you an accomplice. So if you want to walk out of here today, I'd suggest you start-"

"No, you listen to me." Merlin snapped. He momentarily forgot about his mission to win the woman- Morgana?- over to his side. This man was thoroughly annoying him, and that's all that mattered at the moment. There was a burning behind his eyes, but it wasn't tears. "Unless you think there's a D.A. in the state of Nevada who'd be willing to make sense of this to a jury, then we have a show to perform. And you, Agent, have a drawing board to get back to."

Silence for a moment, while Morgana stared at him, stunned.

Then the man stood tall his chair falling to the cold floor. "You are literally begging to be arrested, you know that?"

"If it means you would actually do it, then yeah. But you won't." Morgana opened her mouth to intervene, but Merlin cut her off. "Because if you did, it means that you, and the FBI, and your friends at Interpol, actually believe, at an institutional level, in magic."

That hadn't seemed to have occurred to the agents. They both leaned back, frustrated.

"The press would have a field day." Merlin continued. "And we'd be even more famous than we already are. And you guys would look like idiots even more than you already are." He turned to Morgana, remembering his earlier decision. "Well, no, not you. But him. Right?" Merlin smirked at the man. "You have, what we in the business, like to call, 'Nothing up your sleeve'. And you know it."

Morgana glanced at the man, who looked ready to strangle Merlin. "Arthur?" She prompted.

Arthur took a deep breath, and his face went back to a slightly more normal color. "You wanna know who sat in that chair before you? Mob bosses, murderers, and thieves."

Merlin raised his eyebrows in false interest and wiggled in the chair.

"And you know you put them there?" Arthur glared. "The guy in this chair."

Morgana rolled her eyes, but Arthur ignored her.

"So I warn you, I can maintain my resolve much longer than you can maintain that phony arrogance. And the instant that you show even the slightest crack in that smug facade, I'll be there. I will be all over you like-"

"Like white on rice?" Merlin interrupted with a grin. Arthur had almost cracked. He shook his head. "Sorry, that's unfair. Let me warn you. I want you to follow. Because no matter what you think you might know, we will always be one step, three steps, seven steps ahead of you. And just when you think you're catching up, that's when we'll be right behind you."

He leaned forward and met Arthur's rage-filled gaze with a smug smile. "And at no time will you be anywhere other than exactly where I want you to be. So come close. Get all over me, because the closer you think you are, the less you'll actually see."

It worked. Arthur lunged forward with a growl of "I'm gonna nail you-", and suddenly the handcuffs Merlin had discreetly slipped off were locked around Arthur's wrists. The blond grunted in surprise and Morgana shot out of her seat. Merlin stepped back from the table, grinning.

Morgana turned her stunned gaze to him, so Merlin nodded his head toward the soda can. "Something wrong with that soda, Miss?"

Morgana narrowed her eyes, but grabbed the can and shook it. Something rattled inside. She sighed and popped the tab.

As soda poured onto the table, Merlin darted forward and scooped up Arthur's phone out of the way of the liquid. He showed it to Arthur.

"First rule of magic: always be the smartest person in the room."

And then while Arthur and Morgana fiddled with the sticky key, Merlin discreetly switched the phone with the replica in his pocket.

* * *

Two hours later, after the others had been interrogated, The Horsemen were released.

Arthur was decidedly not happy.

"We're just letting them go? Are you serious, Boss? They all but admitted they're going to do it again."

Odin frowned at him. "Earlier you didn't give a damn about them. What changed?"

"I met them." Arthur growled.

Leon ran up to them. He looked excited. "Hey! Guys. Hey, I ran a check on the audience. Most of it was just filler, people Priest dragged in to pack the room. But guess who was sitting there in the back, filming the whole thing?"

"Who?"

"Kilgarrah Drake." Leon practically shouted.

His boss and partner stared at him.

"Kilgarrah Drake, the guy from TV, with the DVD's and shows?" Leon prompted. "No?"

Arthur shook his head.

"Okay, well, he debunks magicians. He exposes them, shows you how to do their tricks."

For the first time today, Arthur felt excited. "Get him on the phone."

Leon grinned. "I did. You're having lunch with him in 45."

* * *

 **AN: I removed Alator's interrogation, because it didn't fit with the rest of the story. Nothing else much to say.**

 **myfoodisnotshared - I'm glad you like it! I'm doing my best to keep this interesting! I can't take credit for the main plot though.**


	4. Long Way Down

Arthur was sitting at a large table with Morgana, Drake, and Drake's young nephew Aithusa. They were in an upscale restaurant, certainly not someplace Arthur would go under normal circumstances.

"Kilgarrah actually began as a magician," Aithusa said, bright blue eyes shining. "One of the best."

"Really?" Arthur asked, turning to the man in question. "You were one of the great magicians. Why did you stop?"

Kilgarrah Drake was a gruff looking man, with a sour disposition and piercing eyes. Arthur almost wished the man would look somewhere else, but he made unflinching eye contact. "Do you know how many people went to see magic performed live in the last half decade? About 1.6 million. You know how many DVD's I've sold in the same period? Five million."

"Right, so it's about the money."

Kilgarrah quirked an eyebrow. "Well, the money is only there because the need to know is greater than the desire to be fooled. Like you, I detest those who prey upon the gullibility of the masses."

"With all due respect," Morgana interrupted. "Isn't there a cost, though, to this game?"

"Cost?" Aithusa asked warily, quirking an eyebrow.

"I don't know. Careers. Lives."

Kilgarrah sighed. "I assume you're referring to Thomas Smith."

"Who?" Arthur had never heard the name before, as common as it sounded.

"Thomas Smith. A middling magician who drowned in the Hudson River thirty years ago." Aithusa explained. "On Kilgarrah's first special, he revealed all of Smith's tricks. The next year, Smith tried to stage a comeback. He was shackled inside a safe, and dropped into the river. But he never resurfaced."

Arthur frowned. "You mean he drowned?"

"I didn't kill him." Kilgarrah glared. "He killed himself trying to do something he wasn't prepared to handle." He tilted his head, eyes narrowed. "You do realize this is a game?"

"Believe me, it's not a game." Morgana asserted.

"It is a game. _You're_ a game. You're being played. And your pathetic attempts at fawning to gain my trust..." Kilgarrah grinned, darkly amused. "I mean, come on."

Arthur shrugged, unconcerned. "You got me."

"If you really want to know how a bank in Paris was robbed from a stage in Las Vegas, my special comes out next month."

"Or we could just bring you in on obstruction charges and force you to tell us." Morgana threatened with her patented nonchalant expression. Arthur wished he could look so uncaring. "Unless, of course, what you're really trying to say is you don't know how they did it."

Aithusa glanced nervously at his uncle, and Kilgarrah got a gleam in his eye.

* * *

"Showmanship and theatrics." Kilgarrah led the agents to the stage. "When a magician says, 'This is where the magic is happening', the real trick is happening somewhere else."

Aithusa scurried in front of them, reaching back to help his uncle up the stairs. Arthur glanced at Morgana. She seemed determined and a bit amused, as usual.

"Misdirection. A basic concept of magic."

"Not interested in the concepts of magic," Arthur griped. "I wanna know how they robbed a bank."

Kilgarrah scoffed. "You're an idiot if you think they robbed a bank. But don't take my word for it." He gestured to the 'teleporter' in the center of the stage. "How about a trip to Paris? Aithusa, the helmet please?

Arthur stared. "You're joking, right?"

Kilgarrah stared back. "You want to know how they did it or not?"

Arthur rolled his eyes as Aithusa gently settled the helmet on his head, then shooed him on top of the platform.

"Now we pull this down all safe and snug." Kilgarrah was definitely amused as he pulled the curtain down. "Make yourself comfortable, there you go. And when you're ready to go to Paris, just say the magic word."

"Bite me?" Arthur glared.

The old man grinned. "That'll suffice."

"Bon voyage," Morgana laughed.

And then there was a bright flash of light and Arthur screamed as he hit the ground. He looked around. He was in what looked to be a vault, like the one that was robbed. But that was impossible, right? He pushed himself to his feet as the vault door opened.

"Bonjour," Kilgarrah smiled as he entered. "I personally prefer to take the stairs to Paris. Welcome to the City of Light, Agent Pendragon."

"Hardy har har," Arthur griped. "What was with the helmet?"

Kilgarrah shrugged. "My fun."

Morgana laughed as she entered the 'vault' with Aithusa.

"What?" Arthur frowned.

"Nothing," but she smiled at the top of his head.

"Oh!" Arthur slipped the helmet off, and turned away from his sister. "So they got a vault set."

Kilgarrah hummed and nodded.

"And it's the exact replica of the little French guy's bank."

"So he's a plant," Morgana deduced.

Kilgarrah shook his head. "He's a dupe, not a plant. They chose him, they knew which seat he was in."

Arthur squinted. "No, no, no, the audience picked the seat."

"Unless, of course," Morgana realized, "the audience _didn't_ pick the seat."

"They let them _think_ they picked the seat," Kilgarrah nodded, "When, actually, they were just palming the ball with the seat number they wanted. He was selected. They programmed his mind to make him go to Las Vegas. And then they kept reinforcing it, until he did. They trailed him, they studied him. Nothing was left to chance. He had no idea that he was their target. And they simply activated him in Vegas."

Arthur considered it. He supposed it made sense. It wouldn't have been difficult for The Horsemen to fly to Paris, given Nimeuh Priest's bank account. Then it would have been a simple matter of shuffling cards within eyesight, flipping poker chips, a few simple phrases on a fake phone call.

"But how did they know what bank was his?" Morgana asked.

Kilgarrah looked shocked. "You're kidding."

"Could you be any more of a condescending ass?" She glared back.

"Yes."

Arthur laughed.

"Like this." Kilgarrah pushed off the wall. "There's a very rare, very mysterious way in which a magician divines an audience member's bank." He leaned in close. "Credit card."

Morgana's eyes widened. "And that's how they got the signature for the card they left in the vault in Paris."

"Very good," Kilgarrah smiled. "You're being one-upped, Agent Pendragon."

Arthur frowned. "Okay, but they had to get the signature card in the vault. You said they didn't steal the money-"

"No, I didn't say they didn't steal the money. I said they didn't rob the bank." Kilgarrah corrected. "My guess is that they targeted a shipment of freshly minted money headed to the Frenchman's bank on-board an armored truck.

"Which, of course, is just as hard to break into. Unless you're already inside. And despite what the banks would have you believe, the men driving these trucks are not exactly metal giants. For our Horsemen, it was almost too easy."

Arthur shared a glance with Morgana. "So how did they make the fake money disappear from the vault? What was that?"

Kilgarrah pulled a small paper from his pocket, which disintegrated with a spark. "Hash paper. Magicians use it all the time. Creates no smoke, leaves no residue."

Well. Arthur supposed he knew how they did it now. But the real problem was how to catch them.

* * *

Hunith was fretting in front of the television. People had been calling her ever since she got home yesterday, whether it was friends checking up on her or reporters asking for interviews. The most peace she had had was on the plane when her phone was turned off.

Gaius had decided to stay with her until the whole commotion died down, and Hunith had managed to get vacation time from the hospital she worked at, but poor Balinor still had to go to work every day. His coworkers at the construction site had been harassing him, either calling Merlin a criminal or praising him.

And now on the TV, Conan O'Brien was Skype-interviewing Nimeuh Priest, who was on the plane with The Horsemen to New Orleans. For a moment, Hunith caught a flash of her son's hair, and she felt her anxiety levels rise again.

 _"Two days ago,"_ Conan said, _"No one had heard of these guys, but tonight's show sold out in 35 seconds. I think these guys have cracked the secret to show business: give your audience three million dollars!"_ His audience laughed, and in the top corner of the screen, Nimeuh did the same. _"Puts them in a good mood, doesn't it? Best finale ever. They're going to be the first magicians in history to get laid."_

Hunith snorted.

 _"Remember, if the oxygen comes down, put it on the lawyer first-"_

Nimeuh nodded gleefully. _"Yes, lawyer first, then myself, then the children."_ She jabbed her thumb over her shoulder with a grin.

Hunith scowled and turned off the TV. How dare they make light of the situation? Didn't anyone understand the implications of this? Her son, her baby boy, had completely ruined his life. It wouldn't be long before the FBI caught up to him, and then he would either be dead or in prison.

Merlin had always had that gleam of chaos in his eye. It ruled his heart and his brain, and as he was growing up, Hunith had taught him how to utilize it, shown him all the good he could do. She had always encouraged her son to live his dream, but now she wished that she had stamped it out.

A hand rested on her shoulder, and she turned around.

"The story can't run forever," Gaius reassured her.

And Hunith, blinking back tears, replied, "Neither can Merlin."

* * *

 _"We should be getting there a few minutes early. So sit back, relax, we should be in the Big Easy soon. We appreciate you flying with us today."_

Arthur was seated next to his sister on a crowded plane headed to New Orleans. He wouldn't be surprised if a majority of the passengers were also going to see The Horsemen. They had gotten rather popular since being released from custody. Arthur seethed at the thought.

"So what's in it for Priest, other than money?"

Morgana was shuffling a deck of playing cards she had bought at the airport. "Ego?" She offered the cards to Arthur. "Okay, pick your card. Look at it, put it in the deck, and tell me- no, don't tell me." She made a face.

Arthur rolled his eyes, but did as she said. Morgana smiled and shuffled the cards.

"Kilgarrah was there that night." Arthur thought out loud. "He knows exactly how they pulled it off. What about him?"

His sister looked up. "What are you saying? You think they could be working together?"

"I don't know. All I know is that these guys were a bunch of street magicians a year ago with no resources. So, how do they go from doing that to this, without some kind of outside help?"

Morgana hummed thoughtfully, then pulled a card from the deck. "Was this your card?"

Arthur laughed quietly, and pointed to the man on Morgana's other side. "No, my card is sitting over there on that guys lap. Nice shuffle."

Morgana laughed, and Arthur was reminded of childhood prank wars and petty arguments. "You know, this is hard. According to that book, some of those guys practice one simple move eight hours a day, for a year."

"Really? Some of those guys seriously need to get a life." Arthur hummed.

Morgana frowned and shuffled the cards again. "Is it magicians, in general, you have a problem with? Or specifically these guys?"

"I could care less about magicians in general. What I hate is people who exploit other people."

"Exploit them how?" Morgana offered him the deck. "Try again."

Arthur took a card as he tried to think of the right words. "By taking advantage of their weakness. Their need to believe in something that's unexplainable in order to make their lives more bearable."

"I see it as a strength," Morgana countered. "My life is happier when I believe that."

She slipped a card onto his seat tray. "Is this your card?"

It wasn't, but Arthur decided to humor her. He smiled and nodded. If anything, this case was helping him get close to his sister again. "Yeah."

Morgana beamed. "Yeah? Cool." Arthur laughed, and Morgana cocked her head. "So, tell me, brother dear. Do you feel exploited? Or did you maybe have a tiny, tiny bit of fun?"

Arthur had actually had a lot of fun, but there was no way he'd ever admit that to her. She'd never let him forget it.

* * *

Merlin fidgeted in his seat, stressing. His family had returned their tickets for tonight's show. His mother had called him before he got on the plane, but he hadn't answered, too frightened of what she might say.

Freya was sharing jokes with Alator in the back of the plane, and Mordred sat across from Vivienne Willows, Nimeuh's pretty, young assistant. Nimeuh herself sat in the center of the plane, having recently logged off Skype. No one paid attention to Merlin, but he didn't mind. He appreciated the time to himself. It gave him a chance to think about everything that was going on, and everything to come.

There was every chance this was going to end badly. It was very likely, actually. But the possibility, however small it may be, that the Eye actually existed, that whoever had recruited them wasn't playing a long and elaborate prank, well, then maybe it would all be worth it. Merlin wasn't really a gambler, but this was one he was willing to make.

Merlin checked his watch. About thirty minutes to land. Time for the next step of the plan.

He headed to the back of the plane and peeked into the separate compartment where Freya and Alator were laughing. "Hey guys? We have a show to prepare for." Merlin could tell from their expressions that they understood his double meaning.

"Oh, do we now?" Alator stood up with a small grin, and Merlin found that it wasn't that difficult to pretend to be annoyed.

"No, no, no, don't do that. You're not doing that- that _thing_ to me. No."

"What thing? I'm just looking at you." Alator herded Merlin back into the main cabin, and Freya followed with an amused grin.

Merlin threw his hands up. "No, you're not. I've been watching you for a year now. I know all of your little tricks."

"That's what they are to you? Tricks?" Alator looked honestly offended. Merlin might have to apologize later.

"Yes, it's gimmicks. It's Barnum statements. It's reading the eyes, body language."

"I get it." Alator was annoyed. "If it's such an easy thing, why don't you do Freya?"

"Yeah Merlin, why don't you do me?" Freya had a twinkle in her eye.

Merlin shook his head. "No, you're too easy, I grew up with you. No, I'll do Vivienne."

"No." Nimeuh interrupted, as they knew she would. "Do me."

Merlin felt a bit smug, but he thought he hid it well. "Okay." He sat down in front of Nimeuh, and Vivienne and his teammates gathered around him.

"But I warn you," Nimeuh cautioned with a smile, "I can be difficult to read, when I want to be."

Merlin prepared his ego for the slaughter it was about to endure. He reminded himself that it would be worth it soon. "Just stay with me, okay? So, Nim, you were a tough kid. You know, kind of real rapscallion. You had a... dog. A real fluffy dog. A show breed. Like a real... I want to say, Poppy the pomeranian."

Nimeuh smirked. "Actually, I was a prissy little tot, and I had a white cat named Snuffles."

The other three Horsemen jeered, and Vivienne smiled softly.

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Ah. Sorry."

Mordred perked up. "Wait, let me try one. I can do way better than that."

"Let him do it." Freya nodded.

Merlin played up his ego. "Come on, give me one more time, one more time." He turned back to Nimeuh. "Let's do family. You had an uncle on your mother's side. He had a real, kind of... A real masculine name. Real kind of salt-of-the-earth, you know, a real stick-it-to-you... like some kind of... Paul. Thompson? Was it a Paul..." He sighed. "Okay, you know what? I've got nothing."

Nimeuh smiled, amused. "Nearly though."

Merlin looked up in genuine surprise. "Was I?"

"My uncle's name was Basil Fisher."

Merlin immediately memorized the information, as he knew his teammates were doing the same. "Really? Snuffles and Basil Fisher? That was your childhood?"

"I certainly hope tonight's show is better than this." Vivienne joked.  
Merlin wondered if later she'd regret her wish. "Don't worry. Just you wait."

* * *

 **AN: Sorry for the delay. This chapter didn't want to cooperate. I tried editing it multiple times, but it just didn't ever seem to be right, until a 3AM epiphany last night.**

 **I find it funny that my favorite parts are Hunith's POV.**

 **Guest: I did consider it, but Kilgarrah fits better for my purposes.**

 **thejammysod: I'm glad you like it! I was honestly shocked to find that it hadn't been written before, and that just seemed unacceptable to me.**

 **I have the next handful of chapters edited now, so there won't be another month long gap. Sorry again!**


	5. Shiny Celebrity Skin

"Hey." Arthur had to shout into his phone to be heard over the crowds of New Orleans. "Come on, give me some good news on a hotel room, please."

"Are you kidding me?" Leon sounded incredulous. "Arthur, it's Mardi Gras, we'll be lucky if we can get the truck through the streets."

Arthur sighed, then realized he couldn't see Morgana's black curls anywhere. "Hold on a second, hold on. Where'd she go?" His sister appeared a few yards behind him, and he hurried closer. "Hey, there you are! Morgana, I know you love shopping, but now is not the time."

Morgana rolled her eyes. "Arthur, you might not be so frustrated if you had paid attention during our childhood French lessons. Do you see that woman up there?" Arthur followed her finger to a small woman on a balcony, smiling and waving. "That's Alice Norris, and she has a lovely apartment for us. You're welcome."

"Yeah." Arthur sent her a look of grudging appreciation, then lifted his phone back to his ear. "We got a place."

* * *

Arthur hovered over the small dining table as agents dragged equipment into the apartment. He stared angrily at the case file. He wished he could just burn it. Morgana was perched on the table next to him, reading a large book she had dug out of her bag. "If you want to keep playing into their hands, go for it." She flipped the page. "I'm just trying to understand how they think."

Arthur grunted. "You think I'm playing into their hands, do you?"

Morgana shrugged, gesturing to the near empty file in his hands. "I don't know how any of that is going to go against this."

" _This_ what? This magic?"

Morgana rolled her eyes and turned the book around so Arthur could see. "Thomas Smith. In Central Park, he has a guy pick a card and sign it. Then goes to a tree that has been there twenty years. They saw the tree in half, and inside the tree, encased in glass, is the card with the signature. How did he do that?"

"I have no idea. But I'm sure there's a logical explanation. Excuse me." And he shoved past her and onto the balcony. Agitated, he pulled out his phone and called Leon, who was still in the surveillance van. "You got a guy in that lobby yet?"

"Not yet, but I do have some good news. Remember how Catha is such a control freak, he's got his whole crew wearing those tracking bracelets?"

Arthur hadn't heard of that. "No. What tracking bracelets?"

"He has every member of his crew, including his team, wearing tracking bracelets." Leon informed him gleefully. "Those bracelets are on a sub-8 flat-band. So as long as Catha is tracking them, our boys can track Catha from right here in the mobile command unit."

Arthur could barely contain his glee. "Okay, call me if you get any movement."

"Copy that." And Leon hung up.

Arthur rested his elbows on the railing and looked over the crowds. He heard heels click against the floor behind him. "You're missing the big picture here, Arthur." Morgana came to rest next to him. "There's a place in Paris, Pont des Arts. Sometimes in the morning, I sit on a bench there, and I watch people make a wish and trap it in a lock on the bridge, then throw the key into the Seine. All day they do this. Mothers, lovers, old men. Watching the key sink into the water, and their secret is locked away forever. Real, and, at the same time, magical."

Her brother didn't answer, and after a moment she sighed. "So... do you really think it's possible there's a fifth Horseman?"

* * *

"There is a legend," Kilgarrah said before the camera, "of a secret order born in ancient Egypt called The Eye. It is said they perfected slight of hand to steal food from the Pharaohs and give it to the slaves. Their purpose? Using magic and illusion to even the scales of justice. Are The Horsemen next in a long line of fools to believe this myth? Will they evade the rules of law and logic like they did in Las Vegas? Or will the dark mysticism of this Southern swampland get the better of them?"

Loud clapping. Kilgarrah frowned. Damn it. They would have to refilm that now. And they were only allowed to borrow this shop for so long. Whoever that was would pay for it out of their own bank account.

"Bravo, Mr. Drake."

Oh. _Her_.

"Either you have a cease-and-desist," Kilgarrah warned, "which you don't, or you should leave."

Nimeuh smiled. "If I want something to cease or desist, it does."

Kilgarrah sighed and shooed away the crew. "Take five."

Nimeuh waited patiently until they were alone. "According to your potential backers, you stand to make 2.5 million tops from your best special." She pulled something from her pocket. "I have here a check for 3.5 million."

"To walk away?"

"To fly away." Nimeuh's blood-red smile was dangerously smug. "My jet is at your disposal."

Kilgarrah disregarded her offer. "Let's not kid ourselves, Ms. Priest. You're in this to ride them up. I'm in this to ride them down."

Nimeuh's smile never faltered. "I take it we don't have a deal. And therein lies our conflict." She shook her head. "Let me be blunt. My bank account is much, _much_ bigger than yours. And my lawyers are much stronger. And they will manacle you with so many injunctions, until you stand by, hopelessly watching everything you own drain in front of your greedy little eyes."

Kilgarrah was unaffected. "This isn't the first time I've been threatened. And I'm still here."

"It is, however, the first time you've been threatened by me. And if you do anything to sully my investment, the ride down, as you mentioned, will be sudden, precipitous, and measurable on the Richter scale." She had picked a Voodoo doll off of the shop's counter, and she slammed it down at the end of her speech.

"Oops," Kilgarrah tsked. "You shouldn't done that. According to superstition, one who uses a doll to enact one's own wrath, is likely to bring that very wrath upon themself. Isn't that funny?"

Nimeuh stalked out, throwing over her shoulder, "And I thought you didn't believe in magic."

* * *

The show began in ten minutes. Merlin was currently backstage, in the lounge with his teammates. They were putting on the final touches of stage makeup, and practicing last minute tricks. Tonight's show was going to be great, he could feel it. They had finished the last preparation earlier when Nimeuh left the hotel. She had come back a bit flustered, and Merlin assumed she must have been 'negotiating' with Kilgarrah Drake. He wished he had been privy to that conversation.

Merlin also wondered how she'd feel after the show. He had learned a lot about her in this past year, and he knew that she was one of the unpleasant people he had ever met. He hoped she felt betrayed.

Mordred looked nervous, and Alator seemed to be trying to calm him down. He was trying to get the younger man and Freya to join him in a silly exercise. Merlin wasn't paying attention. He was fiddling with a deck of cards, not consciously controlling his actions, just trying to calm the sea of emotions.

Will was going to be here tonight. He had originally said he didn't have the money, and refused to take charity, but after hearing of the last performance, he had managed to scrape enough together. Merlin felt a hint of shame. Will was like a brother to him. Merlin wasn't sure he wanted his friend to see him doing this. He supposed it was going to happen whether he wanted it to or not, though.

There was a knock at the door, and as one, the team turned.

"Pardon the intrusion." Kilgarrah Drake stood at the threshold of the room. "I just wanted to wish you luck tonight."

Mordred narrowed his eyes. "What, so you can try to expose us later on your little website? That's not going to happen."

"Oh no? Operating on a special plane now because of The Eye? I've heard it's a lovely place. Lots of starshine and moonbeams. Make any magician's wish come true. You've come a long way, much further than anyone would have expected of a bunch of wanna-be's and has-been's."

Alator placed a hand over his heart. "If by 'has-been' you're referring to me, I just wanna say, I'm flattered, because I always considered myself a never-was." Subtly, quickly, his entire demeanor changed. "Do you mind if I do a quick read on you?"

Kilgarrah spread his hands. "By all means."

"Okay," Alator's smile didn't reach his eyes. "I'm picturing a little boy. He wants to be a great magician someday. And though he's good, he's not quite good enough. So he ends up at the bottom of the entertainment food chain, feeding off of those who have talent he never did. Tell me, am I getting close?"

Kilgarrah shook his head, exasperated.

"Anyway," Freya cut in casually as she skillfully winged her eyeliner. "Thank you so much for coming by, but this is a talent only area, so..."

Kilgarrah grinned. "Break a leg," he said over his shoulder.

Mordred glared. "Hey, you break something too."

* * *

 **AN:** When I first wrote this story, I was so excited at the concept that I didn't really pay attention to the quality of my writing? So now, I read this again, and I am completely disillusioned with it. So... I'm going to finish posting it, and then start on a rewrite, which probably won't be posted for a _long_ time. I plan on finishing some other stories first, which will hopefully be better than this one.

I'm going to see Infinity War tonight. I'm really nervous, because I already know some of what's going to happen, thanks to big-mouthed friends, and I'm not sure I'm ready for this. Oh well. If I don't post again, it's because I've died of shock. 'x)

Thank you all for reading, and all the follows and favorites! I hope you all have a wonderful day(week, month, however long it takes me to update)!


	6. The Sound of My Vendetta

**Despite this story being completely finished, I seem to have issues updating any sooner than every few months. Sorry. I'm going to do my best to get the rest of the story up before August 19, because then I will officially be a college student and will likely find even** ** _less_** **time for writing and editing. Thanks again to everyone who reads this! You're all great, and I'm sorry to make you wait so long.**

* * *

"Ladies and gentlemen, the Savoy management welcomes you to tonight's special performance, The Four Horsemen, Act Two. Unlike traditional performances, The Four Horsemen encourage you to film, call your friends, upload, stream, and tweet the show freely. Thank you. The show will begin in a few minutes."

Arthur had just sat down in his seat, Morgana next to him. This was a large crowd. How fast had it sold out, again?

"Nice watch." Morgana was looking at him.

"Ah, gift from dad," Arthur replied, feeling awkward. Until now, they had managed to avoid any mention of their shared parent.

Morgana raised an eyebrow. "Oh." She quickly changed the subject. "By the way, I know how he did that trick."

"Who?"

"Smith. So, when he was fourteen, he sawed a hole in a tree in Central Park. He had a guy who worked at the carousel sign a card for what looked like a routine little trick."

"And?"

"At the guy's retirement, eighteen years later, Smith performs, has the guy sign a card. Then they go out and saw open the tree, and presto! The card is in the tree."

"It was in the tree for eighteen years." Arthur realized.

Morgana nodded. "The card was in the tree."

"The tree grew around the card in eighteen years. I mean, that isn't magic. It's not magic."

"The point is," Morgana scoffed, "the trick was not to look closely. It was to look so far that you see twenty years into the past." She tipped her head. "After Smith drowned, they never found the body."

Arthur's heart skipped a beat. "What are you suggesting?"

He never got an answer, because the crowd suddenly started cheering. A few even stood up.

"Nimeuh Priest presents," the announcer said over the speakers. "Mordred Clarent, Freya Bas, Alator Catha, and Merlin Emrys. The Four Horsemen!"

Arthur growled under his breath as he watched the performers walk on stage. They were grinning wildly, basking in the attention. The blond found his gaze drifting to Emrys. For some reason, the lanky young man irritated him the most. After a moment, Arthur decided that it was because he looked too innocent to be the leader of a group of criminals.

The audience didn't quiet for another minute, but when they did, Catha spoke. "Thank you. Before we begin, we'd like to single out two people in particular. A man and a woman to whom we'd like to dedicate tonight's performance. FBI Agent Arthur Pendragon, and the lovely, if somewhat inexperienced, Morgana Gorlois, everyone!"

The crowd booed and Arthur suddenly felt claustrophobic. Morgana was stiff beside him. What the hell was that? He was used to criminals calling him out, but so publicly?

Clarent nodded. "Yeah, Mr. Pendragon has personally vowed to 'nail us.' And we encourage him to do so, if he has the brains and the fur."

Emrys and Bas shared a smug, but exasperated glance, and Arthur decided he was more determined then ever to see them all behind bars. Emrys stepped forward and the crowd quieted again. "What is magic? Our argument, nothing but targeted deception. So I want you to look. Look as closely as possible. Because the tricks you are about to see may not seem connected, but we assure you, they are."

Bas smiled. "Is what follows 100 different tricks? Or is it one giant illusion?"

The crowd cheered, and Arthur glanced at his sister. She was obviously thinking the same- that this performance would be imperative in figuring out The Horsemen's plans.

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, Arthur had witnessed a stereotypical rabbit-in-the-box trick, mass hypnosis, a trick with cards, and Emrys making giant bubbles out of his hands.  
And then The Four Horsemen stepped forward as one.

"At the intermission," Emrys began, "We asked you to write down your current bank balance, and seal it in an envelope."

Arthur hadn't, of course. He wasn't an idiot.

"Now it's time to take those envelopes out." Catha continued. "Everyone take 'em out. Now, everybody, shout out your name, all at once. Go."

There was loud, indistinct shouting, and Arthur grumpily covered his ears. Catha placed a hand to his ear. "Gwaine? Green?"

A man shouted "Yeah! Up here!"

"Oh. Way up there. Okay. Bronwyn? Brown?"

The woman next to Arthur stood up. "That's me!"

Catha nodded. "Okay. Names, names. Let's go." Another few seconds of shouting. "Sefa Rundle?"

A woman in the lower seats stood. "That's me!"

"Okay, Sefa, I want you to focus on your balance, and count from one to ten out loud."

The woman did, and Catha cut her off. "Is the first digit five?"

Sefa nodded. "Yes."

"Do it again. This time, faster."

She did, and the performer cut her off again. "Six. Again."

She counted one last time. When Catha interrupted, he said, "Sefa, is your bank balance $562 as of today?"

The woman looked impressed and slightly embarassed. "Yeah, that's what I got." The audience applauded.

"Unfortunately, you're wrong." Sefa looked surprised, but Catha didn't elaborate. He did the same trick with Bronwyn and Gwaine, and declared the same thing: that they were also wrong. Arthur instantly became suspicious.

"In fact, everybody stand up. Everybody. Yeah." Catha instructed. "Put your envelopes to your forehead, and focus on your number." The crowd did, and Catha placed a finger on his temple. "Oh. This is... oh dear, just as I feared. Oh, this is strange. You know, I hate to say this, but you're all wrong. Every last one of you is dead wrong about what you think is in your account. Okay, you can sit down now."

The audience did, mumbling uncertainly. Clarent stepped forward and whispered something to Catha, who said, "Oh! Oh, yeah. I almost forgot.

"This evening," he announced, "would not be possible if it weren't for our great benefactor, Nimeuh Priest. Big applause, big applause." The audience complied. "Nim, actually, why don't you come up on stage for the finale?" The other Horsemen joined in, calling Priest to them. The businesswoman stood and headed down from the balcony. Arthur tensed. He could hear Leon in his ear, preparing everyone to charge.

Emrys smiled as Nimeuh reached the stage. "Here she is. Okay, good. Now, Nim, did you fill out your envelope?"

Nimeuh shook her head, smiling amusedly.

"Well, no need. We've done it for you." Emrys was grinning excitedly, and Arthur knew for certain that _this_ was their big trick for the night.

Catha grinned. "Now, Nim, I took a guess. North of 140. Am I right?" He turned to the audience. "That's 140 million, by the way." Emrys and Bas unfolded a giant envelope, to reveal a comicly large check reading $140 million. The audience cheered.

"I'm sorry, Alator," Bas smiled when it was quiet enough. "How can she be right about her balance, and everyone else be wrong?"

Catha nodded. "I think possibly because she, too, is wrong." He ignored the startled glance his benefactor sent him. "Everybody, take out your paper. And using the flashlight under your seat, start to warm up that paper. I think your correct balance begins to appear."

"Now, Nim," Bas said. "We have a flashlight for you too."

Clarent approached carrying a stage light. He waved it, and the audience laughed. The magician turned on the light and aimed it at the back of the large check. After a second, the numbers got blurry.

"Wow!" Bas said in false surprise. "What's going on there, Merlin?"

Emrys smiled. "Wait. This is weird. A minute ago, it said $144,579,651. But now..." Clarent waved the light one last time, and the numbers changed. "Now, it says $70,000 less."

Catha waved to the audience. "Sefa, can you stand up? Now, what is your new number?"

Sefa smiled in amazement. "$70,562 now in my account." The audience went crazy. After a minute of shouting and cheering, The Horsemen motioned for quiet.

"Is it possible," Bas glanced at the team leader. "that Sefa's balance went up the exact amount that Nim's went down?"

Nimeuh looked a bit scared and annoyed, but didn't say anything.

Clarent waved the light again. "Hey. Check it out. It's happening again."

"Is it?"

Bas feigned shock. "Wow, it is! Nim's balance has gone down another 280k!"

"Bronwyn Brown?" Catha called. "What does yours say?"

The woman next to Arthur said excitedly, "$281,477!"

The audience chorused their praise, and Arthur began to feel nervous. It was so easy to forget that he was here on a case, but now that it was staring him in the face, he wondered how he had ever considered otherwise. The Horsemen had the audience eating out of their hands now, and any action the FBI took against the magicians had just been made so much more difficult.

"We have a confession to make." Bas announced.

"She's right." Catha said. "We lied about something."

Emrys strode forward confidently. "None of you were chosen at random. All of you have one thing in common."

"Everyone in this room was a victim of the hard times that hit one of America's most treasured cities."

"Some of you lost your houses, your cars-"

"Your businesses-"

"Your loved ones." Emrys stared stoicly. "But all of you were insured by the same company."

The Horsemen stood in a line. "Priest Insurance."

"You were abandoned-"

"You were loopholed-"

"Out of your settlements."

The crowd was getting antsy, fidgeting uncertainly and whispering to their neighbors. Arthur wondered just how badly this was going to blow up. Priest whispered something in Bas's ear, and the performer smiled cruelly. She whispered something back, and Priest looked murderous.

A man on the right of the stage stood, yelling "Whoa! Whoa! I've got $82,000 in my bank account! It says it right here on my cell phone! Everybody, look at your cell phones right now! Everybody!" The audience clamored again, shouting and pulling out phones.

Arthur glanced at The Horsemen. They looked pleasantly surprised, so he assumed this man wasn't a plant, just an incredibly lucky coincidence. He muttered into his ear piece, "Is this for real?"

"I don't know!" Leon sounded flustered.

"Is this happening?" Arthur stressed.

"I _don't know_! I can't tell!"

Damn it. Arthur stood from his chair and headed for the aisle, waving Morgana after him. Something was happening on stage, but he ignored it, listening for Leon's affirmation - "We got confirmation. It's really happening, they robbed her."

So Arthur pushed his way through the crowd, shouting, "Do _not_ let them get away!"

* * *

Merlin was surrounded by chaos, and he loved it.

The audience was baying for Nimeuh's blood, and Merlin felt an odd sense of pride. _He_ did this. He had nearly singlehandedly brought down one of the richest people in the world. Only _nearly_ singlehandedly, of course. His teammates deserved quite a bit of credit too.

Nimeuh stood still in shock, seemingly unable to comprehend what had just happened. Merlin wanted to savor the moment, but he could see Agents Pendragon and Gorlois hurrying out of their seats. He turned to head off-stage, and his teammates did the same. Nimeuh cut them off.

"Did you do this?" She snarled.

Mordred grinned. "How could we, Nim? We don't have your password." He strode past her.

"We'd need access to information we could never get our hands on." Freya followed, wiggling her fingers for effect.

"Ah, yes," Merlin pretended to think. "Security questions, for instance, like, I don't know, your mother's maiden name, or the name of your first pet." He grinned darkly. "Where would we get that information, Nim? You certainly would never tell us."

And then he swaggered to the back of the stage and prepared for his exit. He stood next to Freya, Mordred on her other side. All three held a nearly invisible wire, with a small loop for their foot. As Merlin stepped into it, he heard Alator taunt Nimeuh - "Hey, we left you the jet and the Rolls."

It worked, and she finally snapped. She lunged after Alator. There was a clank of metal, and Nimeuh jerked to a stop, landing face first on the stage. Merlin glanced smugly at the handcuff Freya had slipped around her ankle, and turned to share a look of dark amusement with his friend.

Alator reached them and prepared his own rope, as a commotion broke out among the audience. After a second, Agent Pendragon broke through the crowd, shouting "Stop! Stop! Nobody move!" Then, as The Horsemen had expected, "Freeze!"

The people who had volunteered for Alator earlier had been hypnotized to react to that word. And sure enough, twelve people came hurdling through the crowd, under the impression that they were football players. And they all thought Arthur was the quarterback they were told to tackle.

Pendragon made it just past Nimeuh when the first woman caught up to him, tossing him to the ground. Soon, the agent was at the bottom of a pile of writhing human bodies. Merlin barely held back a laugh.

He and his teammates waved a hand. "We are The Four Horsemen! Goodnight!" And then they were lifted up through the ceiling.

Arthur managed to free himself just as Morgana reached him, looking concerned. He waved her off, fuming. "I want everyone on the street!" He yelled into his ear piece. He could hear Leon repeating his orders. "Everyone! Leon, meet me in front of the theater, and bring the tracker."

And then he barged through the crowd in record time. He tripped as he got outside but landed on Leon. He took a second to orient himself. "Let's go! Let's go! Now! C'mon, let's go!"

Leon seemed startled by his outburst. Arthur groaned and reached for the device in his friend's hands. "Give me the tracker. Let's go!" And then he was running again, following the little blip on the screen in his hands, all the while yelling into his ear piece. "Go around, cut them off! He's turning left on Burgundy!"

Cars honked and Arthur dodged as here sprinted across the street. He ran through a side alley and back onto a street. This one was filled with people, dressed scantily or colorfully, mostly drunk, and all shouting.

"Hey! Move!" Arthur shoved someone to the side, and saw Emrys glancing over his shoulder at him. "I've got him heading north on Bourbon! Hey, excuse me! Move!" Arthur continued tearing through the street until someone knocked him over. Whoever it was pulled him back up by his coat and then disappeared, and for a second Arthur worried that he might have been pickpocketed. But then he realized he had bigger things to worry about.

Arthur stood as tall as he could but he couldn't see Emrys. He had disappeared into the crowd. Scowling, Arthur glanced back down at the tracker. He was still nearby.

"I lost him at Bourbon." He spun, trying to look over the heads of the crowd. "Damn it, where are you?" He saw movement and followed. The blip moved in the same direction. "He's heading south on Exchange Place!" Arthur turned a corner, and at the end of the alley was Emrys, climbing over a short wall. Morgana ran in from the other direction, lifting her gun. She was closer than Arthur, so he hurried forward as fast as his tired legs could take him.

"Stop!"

Emrys slowly turned around and raised his hands, but Morgana didn't move. She looked like a deer in headlights, and Arthur had no clue why. After a second, Emrys wiggled his fingers in farewell and slipped over the wall.

Arthur was furious. "What are you doing?" he shouted at his sister, who was facepalming and grumbling to herself. Arthur ran past her and scaled the wall. "He's going in Napoleon House!" He barged through the door, shoving people aside as police cars pulled up out front. "Move, move!"

The people were screaming and arguing, but Arthur ignored them, running to the back. "Move out of the way! Move!" He glanced at the tracker. "He's in the bathroom! I have him in the bathroom!" Arthur ran in and kicked open the stall, but found no one. He ran back out, growling "No, no, no!"

He was met with guns in his face and shouts of "Freeze!"

There was a second of confused silence as Arthur stared at his agents, then Leon ordered, "Lower your weapons!"

Arthur stared at the tracker, and something in his pocket beeped. A feeling of dread came over him. He reached inside and pulled out a tracking bracelet. He hadn't been pickpocketed, someone had instead slipped something on him. He was overcome with rage. "I'm tracking myself!"


	7. Destination Desolation

Hunith felt numb. All her emotions were spent over the past few days, and tonight she could no longer feel anything. In less than a week her world had been turned upside down.

Will had sent her the video of tonight's performance, and she had quietly watched it with her brother and husband. But to see it on the news...  
Hunith currently sat between Gaius and Balinor on the old couch in their living room, watching tonight's news, but mostly staring at her son's smiling face in the corner of the screen.

"The Horsemen left egg on the face of what they call the alphabet agencies, calling into question the efficacy of the FBI task force, as well as the man in charge of the investigation, Special Agent Arthur Pendragon, who was publicly ridiculed, and even tackled at tonight's performance."

A video clip of the event replaced the pictures on the screen, and Balinor squeezed her hand.

"Talk about a fumble," the newscaster smiled. "This is quickly becoming a national story, as The Horsemen have now seemingly pulled off the impossible for the second time in as many days. Two nights ago in Vegas, The Horsemen seemingly robbed a bank in Paris-"

Gaius turned off the TV. They didn't need to hear all this again.

"So..." He said. "What are we going to do about all this?"

Balinor sighed. "There's not much we can do. It's already done, not to mention he won't answer his phone."

Gaius hummed. "What about Freya? Have you tried her?"

Hunith pulled out her phone and dialed the number she had known for years. It rang for a second, then- "This number is no longer available." She couldn't find the strength to sigh. Hunith dialed her son again, and got the same message. "They've disconnected their phones."

Balinor grumbled and rested his head in his hands. Gaius petted his sister's arm, and she struggled not to cry with exhaustion.

Suddenly Balinor shot back up, glaring at his brother-in-law. "This is your fault," he growled. "You introduced him to these tricks."

Gaius raised an eyebrow calmly. "I never taught him any tricks, simply how to shuffle cards. He taught himself the tricks."

"Why couldn't our son have been normal?" Hunith whined. "Most teenage boys use the internet to play mindless video games or cheat on homework, but ours only watched videos on magic tricks."

Balinor sent her a stressed smile. "Most people wouldn't complain about that."

Hunith began to laugh weakly, and after a moment Gaius and Balinor joined in. When they sobered, they agreed to not place blame on any one person. They had all encouraged Merlin in all of his endeavors, and that had been their mistake. But, as Balinor had said, there was nothing they could do about it now.

That wasn't going to stop them from trying though. So they scraped together enough money for three tickets to The Horsemen's last show.

* * *

Arthur was in a bar when Morgana found him.

"Hey," she said, ignoring the news broadcast above her head. "What are you doing?"

"I'm having a drink," her brother grunted.

"I came to get you. I'm worried about you."

Arthur turned a hazy glare on her. "You're worried about me? Well, I'm worried about you."

Morgana quirked an eyebrow.

"Emrys. You had him."

"He didn't have a weapon," she argued. "I couldn't shoot him and you know that."

"Yeah, but you... you let him go." Arthur leaned closer. "Didn't you? Sister I haven't seen in years shows up out of the blue, acts like my partner-" he grabbed her wrist- "and then she let's the bad guy go?"

"Let go of my arm, Arthur." His sister was being remarkably calm, and normally that would have sent alarms blaring through Arthur's head, but he was furious and ashamed and a little bit drunk, so he ignored her. With fiery eyes, he tried to pull her closer. Morgana moved and suddenly Arthur's face was being pressed against the counter.

He grunted. "I thought you said you were a desk agent."

She let him up, and crouched to pick up the things that had fallen out of her pack. Arthur looked down. Her case journal was open. Anyone else wouldn't be able to read her scribbles, but Arthur had grown up with that handwriting.

"What's the Triple Goddess?" he asked.

Morgana sent him a _look_. "Oh, certainly nothing I want to get into tonight. You're dismissive enough about me when you're sober."  
She slung her bag over her shoulder and turned to leave. "Find your way back yourself."

Arthur sunk back into his seat and ordered another drink.

* * *

"Mr. Drake?"

Kilgarrah had just stepped into the hotel when he was approached by two large bodyguards.

"Ms. Priest would like you to join her for a drink."

Kilgarrah nodded and followed the men. They walked into the bar, where Nimeuh Priest sat brooding at the counter. As Kilgarrah approached, a bartender passed her a drink.

"Thank you." She nodded, then addressed Kilgarrah, wasting no time. "What is your role with them?"

"My role?"

"Yes. You seem to know everything about them. What they're going to do, where they're going to be."

Kilgarrah tipped his head. "If it makes you feel any better, this wasn't about you."

"Please tell me why this was not about me." Nimeuh snarled.

"This is a magic trick, Ms. Priest, played out on a global scale. You, ma'am, are the abracadabra, the distraction, while they set up the real trick."

" _I_ was a $140 million distraction?" Her expression was blank.

"Yes," Kilgarrah nodded. "And that very ego that got you involved with them in the first place is what keeps you from seeing that."

Nimeuh's nostrils flared. "You know-"

"'I can destroy you.'" Kilgarrah rolled his eyes. "Yes, I do know. Well, you won't. And you won't destroy them. Whatever this grand trick is, it was designed a long time ago. And I believe that what's going to follow is going to really amaze. So I suggest you sit back and enjoy your front row seat. You paid quite a lot of good money for it."

Nimeuh practically growled. "Whatever you stand to make, I'll double it, if you expose them now. And _destroy_ them."

"I stand to make five million." Kilgarrah raised an eyebrow.

"And I flinching?"

"No," Kilgarrah smiled darkly, "You're not."

* * *

Arthur swallowed an aspirin with a grimace. His headache was blinding. This is why he didn't usually drink, even off duty.

"Hey."

And because hangovers made him incredibly unobservant. He turned around and saw his sister in the doorway.

"I'm sorry about your arm." She said neutrally.

He winced. "No, I'm sorry. I was an asshole, I was drunk. I'm at a loss."

"You know, when Alator told you I barely spent time away from my desk, he was right. I'm a reseacher. It's what I do best." Morgana lifted a large book onto the counter and flipped it open.

Arthur hesitantly shuffled closer."So what's this all about?"

"Supposedly," Morgana declared, "if you buy into it, The Goddess are the keepers of real magic and the protectors of those who practice it." She turned to a page in the middle of the book.

"'Candidates for initiation must follow a series of commands with blind obedience.'" Arthur read aloud. "This isn't real."

"But there are some who think it is. May I?" Arthur passed the book back, and Morgana flipped to a different page. "According to this, they only take new people twice a century."

"So, what?" Arthur asked. "The Horsemen are doing these shows in order to get into this thing?"

Morgana sighed. "I don't know."

"I don't know," Arthur repeated. "I mean, I guess these guys could just rob banks to rob banks."

Morgana shook her head. "They don't have to perform shows for that. It's probably just a myth. But it doesn't make any sense, and I don't think logic will solve this for us."

"You don't say?" Arthur scoffed.

"No," Morgana ignored him. "I believe that some things are only discovered if you take certain leaps."

Arthur felt a bit sick, but it wasn't from the hangover. "So, if The Goddess did exist, we'd have to assume they were watching us, right?"

His sister turned to him, slightly concerned. She opened her mouth to answer, when Arthur's phone, which he had set on the table, beeped. He picked it up and frowned. The screen was glitching, and then shut down.

Arthur's pulse sped up. "Shit. I think someone _is_ watching us, but it isn't magic."

* * *

An hour later, Arthur had a confirmation.

"Your fears are correct," the tech, George, cheerily informed him. "This is not and never has been your phone. It's a clone in every way-" He removed the back of the phone and pointed to a chip. "Except for this. A bug."

Arthur dropped his head into his hands.

"Someone has heard every call, read every text. That's how they were able to stay ahead of us."

Arthur quickly ran through every time someone had a chance to tamper with his phone. Suddenly, everything was very clear. "Godammit!"

Leon jumped.

"Get me Emrys' interrogation tape." Arthur snapped.

George scrambled. "Yes sir. I have it on the hard drive." He fiddled with the computer for a moment. "Picture's up."

Arthur gripped the back of the tech's chair, and Leon leaned closer. "Okay. Fast forward," Arthur demanded. "Go on, go on. Freeze!" The screen froze on an image of Arthur handcuffed to the table, with Emrys smiling smugly at the camera.

"Okay, frame by frame. Go on. Play it through."

The video slowly played, and Arthur saw Emrys pick up his phone out of the stream of soda. He then switched the phone to his other hand. "Ah! Stop! Zoom in tighter. Tighter."

After switching hands, Emrys had slid the original hand into his pocket. He must have switched the phones then.

"There. That's where he took my phone." Arthur backed away and paced for a second. He could feel eyes on him as he thought. "Is that thing transmitting?" He asked George.

"Only when you're making a call, or sending a text." He answered. "Plus, I removed the bug."

Arthur nodded. "Okay, put it back in and turn on the phone. They don't know that we know about the bug. As of this instant, we are ahead of them. We need to keep it that way. Understand?"

Everyone in the van nodded.

"Find my real phone and track it."

"Already did," George answered. "As of about twenty minutes ago, it's in New York City."

"Good." Arthur said determinedly. "I want to cut them off at the knees. They got power? Cut it. They got phones, electricity, water? Cut it. Squeeze 'em out. I want them to feel our presence."

Arthur stalked out of the van. "And somebody get me an airplane!"

* * *

"The firewall's down." Freya announced nervously. "Do they know about this?"

"'They' who?" Merlin frantically dashed around the apartment, gathering papers.

Freya chewed on her lip. "'They', 'them', whoever we're working for."

"Who _are_ we working for?" Alator questioned. "And are we prepared to go to jail for them?"

"Stop being paranoid." Merlin snapped.

"It really does happen-"

"It happened to you," Merlin glared, stressed. "Doesn't mean it's going to happen to us."

"Guys, I don't know if I can do this, alright." Mordred was panicking. "I don't want to go to jail, you know?"

Merlin dropped a pile of papers into his arms. "Then don't screw up. You're always whining about wanting to be treated like an adult. Now might be a good time to start acting like one."

Freya sent him a disapproving look, but Merlin ignored her. He didn't have time to be nice, especially to Mordred. The younger man was nice enough, sure, but something about his eyes sent shivers down Merlin's spine.

"Stick to the plan," he continued. "Stay here and burn it all."

Tires screeched outside, and everyone started moving faster.

"I don't know what I'm doing here," Alator mumbled.

"I don't know what you'd do anywhere else."

Alator glared. "I'm here for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. That's it. Then I'm gone."

"You can do whatever you want when this is over, Alator," Merlin warned. "But until then, you stick to the plan."

"Hey, guys?" Freya interrupted from the window. "They're, uh, they're here."

* * *

"My guys are ready to go," the NYPD chief of police informed Odin.

Arthur nodded and started forward. "Let's do this quickly."

"Um, no." Odin held out a hand. " _She_ doesn't have jurisdiction here." He pointed to Morgana, who had been following her brother.

"She's Interpol," Arthur argued. "She's with me."

Odin stared at him. "She stays."

Morgana lifted her chin defiantly. "What?"

"Stay in the car," Arthur sighed, then turned to his teammates to avoid her glare. "Let's go."

* * *

Freya, Alator and Merlin had reached the trash chutes when they heard the FBI agents tear through the lobby. They shared a quick glance, then turned back to the chutes.

They dumped their duffels ahead of them to cushion their fall, and heard them land with a soft thud. Alator waved Freya forward. "Ladies first."

She swallowed nervously, glanced back once, and jumped down the chute.

Alator went next while Merlin kept an eye out for cops. They were only a few floors below them by now. Merlin waited long enough for Alator to move out of the way, then hurriedly followed. He could only hope that nothing would go wrong in the next few hours.

* * *

Kilgarrah sat in a car across from the apartment building, Aithusa at the wheel and a photographer in the back seat. He was watching the agents stream into the front entrance of the building when his phone rang. He answered immediately, knowing exactly who it was.

"Tell me," Nimeuh said, "is my money being well spent?"

Kilgarrah couldn't hold back a chuckle. "Exceedingly well."

Three of the four Horsemen, each carrying multiple large bags, came tearing around the side of the building and Kilgarrah motioned to the photographer. There was the unmistakable sound of rapid shutter-clicks, and Kilgarrah knew this was all going to end in his favor.

"Now you tell me. How do you like your Horsemen?" Kilgarrah grinned. "Fricaseed or fried?"

"Shredded," came the answer, and Kilgarrah laughed.

"I'll tell the chef."

* * *

 **Only a few more left guys!**


	8. Hurry, Hurry

Leon was exploring the supposedly empty seventh floor when he saw an open door. He snuck forward, cautious of the old floor boards, and entered. The fireplace was lit, being fed by a small stack of papers. More papers were scattered around the room, but Leon couldn't see anyone here. He cautiously headed into the kitchen. Dirty dishes littered the counter, hastily stacked. He stepped further into the room for a closer look, and something hit his back.

As Leon struggled to keep his balance, a piece of thick cloth was stuffed into his mouth and his arms were grabbed roughly behind his back. He turned head and saw Mordred Clarent franticly dragging him to the sink.

Leon struggled as loudly as he could, knocking things over and smashing dishes as his jacket was pulled down around his wrists. Clarent twisted the sleeves and stuffed them down the sink, flipped on the disposal, and turned to run.

But suddenly Arthur was there, blocking his exit, and Leon nearly cried with relief.

* * *

"Freeze!"

Arthur had heard what sounded like a scuffle, loud crashing and banging, and hurried into Apartment 6. He was pleasantly surprised to see Clarent running away. He was less happy to see what he was running from- Leon, gagged and trapped. His friend looked relieved to see him. He pulled forward and the disposal whirred.  
"Hold on!" Arthur frowned. And then he was being tackled again, though this time his attacker jumped up and ran. Arthur caught Clarent's ankle and brought him back to the ground. He received a kick to the face in turn.

Clarent ran while Arthur was disoriented, but he didn't get far. In his dizziness, Arthur had dropped his walkie-talkie. Clarent tripped over the device and brought down a curtain with him.

Arthur lunged, hoping to trap Clarent under the fabric, but his target had slipped out. Frustrated, the blond stood, breathing hard. He looked around - there. Movement in the corner of his eye. He spun, shoving a wheeled crate (Arthur wondered if it was part of a trick, then decided he had more important things to worry about) at Clarent, and the mirror shattered. Before Arthur had a chance to realize his mistake, the young magician had taken him down with a powerful Spartan kick.  
Arthur threw him back with a strong kick to the gut. Clarent landed on the floor, winded.

Arthur struggled to stand, and took a second to breathe. Then he strode towards Clarent, who briefly glanced at the fire poker, in its stand near his head. He considered it for a moment, and Arthur was absolutely certain that he was about to die violently. Then Clarent groaned, rolled onto his stomach, and franticly elbow-crawled away. He wasn't moving very fast.

Clarent seemed to realize this too, because he suddenly rolled back around, still gasping for breath, and lifted his hands. Arthur relaxed. Clarent was surrendering, he would no longer have to fight the strangely strong boy, he could interrogate him and catch the others, and then this whole thing-  
Clarent flexed his fingers to reveal a full deck of cards.

"Really?" Arthur pretended to be incredulous. In actuality, he was a bit nervous. He had seen Clarent in action, with maybe this exact set of cards. The boy could probably do some real damage.

Clarent nodded. "Yup."

And then cards were flying at Arthur's face. He managed to duck most, but one slashed his cheek and another his hand. As he stumbled back, something caught his ankle and he fell for the third time in minutes. From the ground, Arthur could see that Clarent had handcuffed him to the large, heavy table while he was distracted with the cards.

Clarent stepped forward and picked up the fallen walkie-talkie. _"Five is clear, standing by for six,"_ came through the speakers.

Arthur growled. "You little shit."

Clarent narrowed his eyes, then said, in Arthur's voice, "You little shit."

For what was sadly not the first time in this case, Arthur felt a flash of mind-numbing fear. "What game are you playing?"

"What game are you playing?" Clarent imitated again. He turned on the walkie-talkie and said in his borrowed voice, "We're all good at six. Move to seven."

 _"Copy that. Going to seven."_

Clarent dropped the walkie-talkie out of reach and fled.

* * *

Arthur limped down the stairs as fast as he could. Leon had finally managed to slip out of his tattered jacket sleeves barely a minute after Clarent escaped. The redhead had alerted the others to block all exits, but it was just seconds too late. Clarent had stolen an FBI vehicle.

So now Arthur hurried out of the apartment building and onto the street, only for a car to stop inches from his chest.

"Get in!" Morgana called from behind the wheel.

Arthur gratefully climbed in. "Step on it!"

His sister did not. Instead, she gave the deadliest look Arthur had ever seen her make. "Do not. Ever! Tell me to stay in the car again. _Ever_." Then she pressed on the gas.

Arthur swallowed. "I didn't have tactical command."

"If you don't trust me, just tell me. Promise me, next time, you will back me up."

"Could we have this conversation at another time, please?"

"No!" Morgana snarled.

"Okay, I promise!" Arthur snapped. "Now hurry!"

Tires squealed as they followed Clarent towards the highway. Arthur quickly spotted the uniform black sedan. "Left!" He grabbed his walkie-talkie, that he had thankfully remembered to pick up before leaving the apartment, and yelled, "We're heading east on the FDR Drive!"

"This is not east," Morgana corrected matter-of-factly.

"North, north! We're heading north on the FDR Drive!" They reached the highway and the car bumped, never slowing down. Clarent was only a few cars in front of them, weaving between lanes. "Leon, where are you?"

 _"Right here. Trying to catch up to you now."_

Morgana suddenly swerved into another lane.

"Whoa!"

"Don't complain."

Clarent led them towards the 59th Street bridge. Morgana braked to avoid a bus pulling in front of them, and suddenly they lost sight of their target.

"No!" Arthur shouted. "Move, get over, get over!" The bus pulled back into the other lane and Arthur saw the sedan. "Yes!"

And then the sedan rammed into the divider. It flipped and rolled three times before coming to a stop, mangled and upside down, smoke spilling into the air. It all happened in seconds. Morgana braked hard and traffic around them stopped. Arthur leapt out of the car, ears ringing, and ran to the sedan.

The engine was on fire and the air smelled like gasoline. Arthur dropped to his knees and reached through the missing passenger-side door. Clarent was bloody and limp, completely unrecognizable if Arthur hadn't known who it was.

He was just slightly too far away. Maybe if he pushed a bit more...

Someone had grabbed his shoulders and was pulling him out of the car. "-thur!" Leon screamed.

Arthur shook off his grasp and reached back in. He was so close. Then he was being pulled away again, and his hands closed around a scroll of papers instead. Leon dragged him back to Morgana, saying, "There's nothing you can do, Arthur! Leave him!"

Arthur wanted to yell at him, but his tongue wouldn't work. He clutched the papers angrily.

They had just reached the line of cars when the sedan blew up.


	9. Hell and Silence

There was another newscast. Hunith didn't want to watch it, but she did anyway. She sat on the couch with her brother, Balinor off at work again, and gripped his hand tight.

 _"Today, the unfolding story of a popular and controversial group of magicians, who have fast been capturing the public's imagination, took a darker turn. Police action that began in Chinatown developed into a dramatic, high-speed chase across the 59th Street bridge, which caused a fatal collision that took the life of Mordred Clarent, one of so-called Four Horsemen. The whereabouts of the other three Horsemen remain unknown at this time."_

Oh, thank god. Merlin hadn't been hurt.

Hunith immediately felt guilty for her relief. Merlin may not have died, but one of his friends had. How was he feeling right now? Hunith may not have known Mordred, but she knew he and Merlin had been close.

On the other hand, maybe Merlin would finally realize just how dangerous this game he was playing was. Maybe he'd decide to surrender rather than lose someone else.

Hunith would much rather her son be arrested than dead.

* * *

Arthur felt sick. The paramedics had cleared him, of course, but that was only physical. He kept replaying the crash in his head, wondering if he could have done anything different. He knew, of course, that Clarent's death wasn't his fault, but could he have done something to prevent it?

He didn't think he'd ever know.

Leon cautiously sidled up next to him. "Arthur. They just figured out what the paper was in Mordred's car."

Arthur turned his head. "They know what it is?"

"And why the kid died trying to protect it." Leon nervously passed him a printout. "Odin is on his way to debrief us."

"Let's go," Arthur started towards the car. Leon caught his elbow and passed him a phone.

"You're gonna wanna take this first, though."

"Who's that?"

Leon shuffled his feet anxiously. "Your friend Kilgarrah Drake."

Arthur sighed and lifted the phone to his ear as Leon headed to the van. "Pendragon."

 _"You do understand the function of a magician's assistant, don't you, Agent Pendragon?"_

"Yeah, she's there to distract them while he sets up the trick."

Kilgarrah chuckled gruffly. _"You'd be right if you weren't so wrong. While you're watching the magician, that lovely innocent is actually pulling the strings. Don't you find it peculiar that Interpol would sent a first-timer off the desk to be your assistant? Your very own sister, no less. Why did she request to be put on the case?"_

Arthur frowned. "She was assigned to the case."

 _"Oh. Luck of the draw. Like choosing a random card in the deck."_

"I find it odd," Arthur cautioned, "your sudden act of generosity. What's in it for you?"

 _"Just trying to even the game."_ * Kilgarrah's grin could be heard through the line. _"I feel like I'm playing with someone wearing ankle weights and flippers."_ He chuckled. _"Keep up, Agent Pendragon. Keep up."_

Then he hung up.

Arthur considered for a moment. It made sense. What were the odds his sister was randomly assigned to the same case he was? He'd have to keep an eye on her. He turned to head back to the van and saw Leon, panting as he ran back to meet him.

"Hey. We got a problem."

* * *

Arthur's already bad day got even worse when he realized who was standing with his boss.

"Here's the safe." said Tristan Bordier.

"No, no, no!" whined Arthur. "What's he doing here?"

"Giving us our first solid lead," Odin warned with a glare.

"We've been investigating a private security contractor for the past five years," said Tristan smugly.

"And?"

"They've been hiding close to a half billion dollars-" Morgana began.

"I didn't ask you." Arthur snapped. "I asked him."

Morgana looked stunned, and Leon took a careful step back. Arthur ignored them.

"The money's in a vault inside a warehouse in Queens," informed Odin. "We think this vault is your magicians' final target."

"The magician who died on the bridge..." Tristan glanced warily at Arthur. "You pulled our classified Elkhorn file out of his crispy little hand. And despite their bullshit Robin Hood razzle-dazzle, your magicians are nothing more than common thieves."

"How did they get the file?" Odin demanded.

"This is the part you're going to find particularly interesting, Agent Pendragon. They patched to my server after they accessed your mobile command center in New Orleans with codes they got from your phone."

Arthur was stunned. He spun on his heel to stare questioningly at Leon. His friend looked sheepish. "You ordered us all out to chase after them..."

Odin glared. "The level of incompetence displayed on this case, that's a magic trick in and of it's itself."

"Abracadabra," Tristan grinned. "I'm taking over."

Arthur knew better than to argue. He bit his tongue and watched as Odin led Tristan and Leon back to the command center. Morgana moved to follow, but Arthur grabbed her elbow.

"Hey! I want to have a word with you."

His sister dug her heels into the ground. "Don't ever talk to me like that again," she hissed.

Arthur ignored her. "Why did you take this case?"

"What?"

"People say I'm hard to read. That's an American expression, do you understand it? You've been overseas for so long, after all."

 _"Yes."_ Morgana ground her teeth.

"Good, then let me make myself perfectly clear to you. If I find out you are anything other than who I know you to be, I swear-"

Morgana had had enough. "The French also have an expression: la foi peut déplacer des montagnes. 'Faith can move mountains.' If we hope to catch The Horsemen, then you need to have a little faith in me. Because I've done nothing to deserve otherwise."

"I just got my ass handed to me!" Arthur roared. "I'm losing this case! So faith is a luxury I don't have any time for right now."

Morgana simply turned and walked away.

* * *

 _"More than anything in his life, Mordred wanted to be the most famous magician who ever lived."_

Hunith stared at the phone screen in horror. She had hoped that her son would decide to lay low, take some time to think about his situation. Instead, Balinor had come running home, ranting about something on YouTube.

 _"I can't say he achieved it, but I do hope wherever he is, it is full of magic. But the point is..."_ Merlin looked down for a second and took a deep breath, and Hunith's heart broke. Her son sat between his remaining teammates. All three looked harried, with wild hair and pale faces. _"Sorry. The point is... The point of why we are here is to say that we are not... We cannot quit now."_

Alator spoke from beside Merlin. _"We've started something bigger than all of us. We have to finish it."_

 _"Remember the name Mordred Clarent,"_ Freya had dark circles under her eyes. _"When you see us live, 5 Pointz, Queens, 7:00."_

Hunith didn't waste a second in grabbing her bus pass.

* * *

Arthur's headache was returning, and the wailing sirens weren't helping.

 _"Approaching the warehouse,"_ said an officer through the speakers. _"Units 5 and 6, cover the north and south entrances. We're going for the vault."_ Arthur obligingly jumped out of the car and followed Odin, Leon, Tristan, and Morgana inside. They ran through the hallways, guns held at the ready. They spun around the corner and dashed to the vault.

It was empty.

"Hey. Where's the safe?" Tristan shouted. "Where's the safe?"

An agent assigned to watch the safe approached, and Odin spun, spitting flames. "What is this? Where the hell is the goddamn safe?"

The agent seemed incredibly unimpressed with the 6'5 man screaming in his face. "We just moved it while you were outside. Kingston's orders."

Tristan muttered, "What?"

"I never said that!" Odin roared.

"Sir, you got a phone call and said Washington wants the safe moved."

"You never heard that come out of my mouth, Agent."

The agent lifted an eyebrow. "What happened?"

Tristan lost his patience. "What happened? You tell me what's going on because this is-"

In a split second, Arthur realized what was going on. He shouted, "No!"

"-bullshit!"

Suddenly, Odin stood as straight as a rod. His head tilted and his arms raised, and within seconds he was playing the air-violin. Arthur cursed under his breath.

"Sir?" Tristan asked, confused and concerned. "Sir? What are you doing?"

"I think it's Beethoven's Concerto in D-Major," Morgana snarked.

Arthur urgently addressed the agent. "Where's the safe?"

The man looked confused. "His team is loading the truck."

Arthur darted off, and he heard the others following him. He made it back outside in record time, shouting at the truck as it pulled away. Leon and Tristan joined in. "Hey! Hey! Stop the truck!"

The truck pulled out of the warehouse, and police cars boxed it in just in time. The driver got out of the truck and stomped towards Arthur. "What the hell's going on? We got our orders."

Leon was the least out of breath. "Now you've got new orders. Open it up."

The driver huffed, but unlocked the truck. There sat the safe, untouched and unopened.

Tristan breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay. Here's what I want. At this moment, they think that safe's leaving this site. So we stay with it. We follow it all the way to... Where's it going?"

"5 Pointz. Up the street."

Tristan nodded. "So we go to 5 Pointz. Wherever the safe goes, we go. It'll lead us right to 'em."

Agents nodded and headed to their cars. Tristan pointed to Arthur and Morgana. "You two are with me."

Arthur begrudgingly followed, and Leon ran to meet them. "Guys... Look. Office just called with this." The redhead pulled out his phone. "Horsemen posted it to YouTube twenty minutes ago."

They watched the short video.

Morgana glanced at her watch. "Their show is in half an hour."

"And it's exactly where we're headed." Tristan started to his car.

Arthur quickly caught up with him. "I don't know, boss. I don't wanna be the naysayer, but these guys are kinda tricky."

Tristan rolled his eyes. "Pendragon, they're entertainers."

* * *

 _"A stunning turnout here in 5 Pointz,"_ said the newscaster from Alator's phone screen, _"as the renegade Horsemen taunt the FBI into a final showdown."_

The other newscaster picked up the story. _"The Horsemen have invited us to their final round of their three-act face-off with the FBI. What do they have in store? We're about to find out."_

Alator turned off his phone, and Merlin took the chance to get a good look at his teammates. Freya had skillfully covered up the circles under her eyes, and she looked determined, if a bit tired. Alator looked a bit more weary, but Merlin supposed he could understand. The older man had already done jail time, after all. He couldn't be blamed for not wanting to go back.

As for Merlin himself, he felt like he always did before a show. Anxious, yet strangely energized. Should he feel something more? He wasn't sure. All he knew was that this was the end. After tonight, they would either be dead or on the run.

He could hear the crowd cheering above his head, as well as wailing sirens. The FBI agents were here, as planned. Hopefully they hadn't found the safe. If they had, then the whole past week was pointless.

Alator checked his watch. "It's time."

Freya was suddenly pale. She stood, hugged Merlin briefly, then headed to the next room. Alator sent Merlin a look and followed.

Merlin felt sick. He knew if they were caught, he would be the most in danger. He had assumed the role of leader for a reason, after all. He took a deep breath, stood from his place by the wall, and walked to the next room. He had a show to start.

* * *

 **Sooo… there's only two more chapters, but I can't guarantee when they'll be posted. I move to my dorm on Monday, and I've got to spend the rest of this week finishing up moving preparations.**


	10. This Time I Might Just Disappear

"All eyes on the truck." Tristan ordered. "Let's see who approaches."

Arthur was currently trapped in the car with his boss and sister. It was a situation he would never have imagined in his wildest nightmares. Somehow, though they had barely been introduced to each other, they got along incredibly well. Arthur supposed it must have something to do with both loving to make Arthur's life hell. He prayed for escape.

As if hearing his prayers, another agent announced, _"We've got movement. Someone's walking toward the truck. It's a young man."  
_  
Arthur shared a surprised glance with Morgana, then jumped out of the car. They ran to the truck, guns held aloft.

"Freeze!" Leon had beaten them to the target. The man jumped away from the truck and threw his hands into the air. Someone shined a flashlight on his face. Standing in front of them, wide-eyed and stiff, was Aithusa Drake. The agents crowded around, confused.

"What the hell's going on?" Kilgarrah appeared out of the shadows and stepped protectively in front of his nephew.

Someone shouted, "Hey! It's the guy from TV!"

Tristan turned a glare on the agent. "Put your guns down!" He ordered, then turned to Kilgarrah. "Look who it is. The fifth Horseman."

The old man quirked an eyebrow. "Are you kidding? I'm following them, just like you are."

"I'm not following anybody anymore. You've been ahead of us this whole time," Arthur growled. "But guess what? I'm ahead of you now. Your ass is mine."

Aithusa poked his head over his uncle's shoulder. He seemed confused. Kilgarrah sighed. "You guys are still idiots."

"Yeah?"

"This happens to be the former rehearsal space of Thomas Smith. It's where I did my first show. Now, if you want to look like even bigger idiots, why don't you open it?" Kilgarrah gestured to the safe. "And while you're doing it, Agent Pendragon, would you mind reenacting your look of absolute befuddlement for me? It will make a wonderful cover for my DVD."

Arthur growled. "Open the safe."

Tristan nodded to the agents closest to the truck. "Go ahead. Open it."

One man quickly typed the code in the keypad, and it fell off. "What the hell?"

Arthur felt a rush of panic. "What?" He darted forward and shoved the man out of the way. "Give me that! No, no!" He pulled on the keypad and revealed a chain of silk scarves about five feet long. Arthur yanked it out of the safe and threw it to the ground. "What is this?" The last scarf caught on something, and Arthur heard tumblers moving, then a loud 'clunk'.

Leon snatched his arm. "Get back!"

Agents scrambled for safety as the safe door flung open. After a few moments without an explosion, they all looked back up. The safe had been filled to the brim with balloon animals.

Kilgarrah chuckled. "Who doesn't love a good magic trick? They have you chasing empty safes again. Once again, misdirection."

After a moment of frustrated silence, a tech popped her head out of the mobile command center. "The show is starting! Move out!"

As agents scrambled to their positions, Kilgarrah smiled at Arthur. "The question I'd be asking now, Agent Pendragon, is 'What happened to the real one?'"

* * *

The agents ran to the front of the building in record time. They were not at all surprised by the size of the cheering audience.

"Clear!" Shouted Tristan. "Clear 'em out! C'mon. Move 'em out, move 'em out of the way." He shoved through the crowd of excited New Yorkers, and Arthur and Leon followed. "FBI! Give me a path! Clear out! Clear out!"

The audience began to scream even louder, and Leon pointed to the side of the building. Arthur stopped to look. Emrys' face was projected onto a giant screen.

"What is magic?" He asked. "Magic is deception. But deception designed to delight, to entertain, to inspire."

Arthur shoved his way towards the building.

"It is about belief."

"Faith." Bas' face joined Emrys.

"Trust." Catha was there now too.

The crowd screamed happily, excited to see their new idols. Arthur grit his teeth.

"Without those qualities," Catha said, "magic, as an art form, would no longer exist."

Bas frowned. "But what happens if these qualities are not used for their higher purpose? And instead they're used to cheat, lie."

"For personal gain or greed. Then it's no longer magic." Emrys was staring over the crowd somewhat disapprovingly. "It's crime."

Arthur snorted. That was real rich coming from these guys.

"So tonight," Bas announced, "for our final act, you're gonna help us set a few things right."

Then the image disappeared as the audience applauded. Arthur glanced around wildly, feeling slightly lost. Tristan appeared through the crowd and grabbed his arm. "What's going on here, Pendragon?"

"I don't know," Arthur shook his head.

"Look!" Someone in the crowd pointed skyward.

Arthur followed his finger. There was a commotion on top of the building. "There they are on the roof! Let's move." Tristan immediately ran towards the elevator. Leon and Arthur made to follow, when Morgana slipped out of the crowd and grabbed her brothers arm.

"Arthur!" She shouted over the noise. "They're going in the wrong direction and you know it!"

Tristan shouted, "Pendragon! I need all personnel now!"

Arthur glanced over his shoulder uncertainly. Morgana yanked on his wrist, and he turned back to her. "You need to trust me," she met his eyes desperately. "Take your leap of faith."

* * *

"Merlin?"

Merlin looked over at Alator. They each stood in their own corner of the elevator, having just left the recording room. "Yeah?"

"Uh..." Alator grinned and looked down. "As our, let's call it, year of living dangerously comes to close, in a rare moment of vulnerability, I'd like to express a sentiment to you about our relationship."

Merlin furrowed his brows, amused. "Okay."

"Well, when I first met you, I thought you were kind of an... Idiot."

Merlin huffed. "Oh."

"And?" Freya prompted, laughing.

"No, that's it." Alator grinned.

"That's very nice," Merlin smiled and shook his head. "I'm touched."

"Yeah," Alator shrugged. "Just, from the heart."

Merlin grinned and leaned against the wall. "Well, I didn't tell you where I was touched."

Freya burst into giggles, and Alator shook his head. "Oh, you." The older man smiled.

They sobered quickly. There was almost a final air about their conversation, and they each seemed to want to savor it.

"Oh, god," Alator groaned. "What are we gonna do when this is over?"

Merlin shrugged. "We're on our own. Our instructions run out after the show."

Freya glanced around. "Even if there is no 'Eye', if we were completely played and we spend the next twenty years in jail, then, I just want to say..." Her voice tapered off and she shook her head, but Merlin understood.

"I know." He met her gaze. "Me too."

The elevator rose through the floor and the three Horsemen quickly masked their emotions. The crowd cheered as the magicians stepped onto the roof. Merlin felt a thrill run through him. After a moment in which the audience continued to shout, he nodded to Freya, signaling her to start.

She stepped forward. "Hello, New York! Thank you for the magic! And thank you for being such an incredible and dedicated audience. Unfortunately, like all good things, it must come to an end."

Merlin took a deep breath, and stepped into the spotlight. " So we would like to start our show tonight..."

"By saying goodbye." Alator finished.

The audience grew loud again, and Freya grabbed Merlin's and Alator's hand. "All we wanted," she said, "was to bring the world to a magic show."

"And thereby bring a little magic back to the world," Merlin ended.

There was a commotion on the far side of the roof, and Merlin saw Agent Pendragon shoving his way through the crowd. He squeezed his friends' hands to warn them.

Alator decided to wrap things up. "This has been one hell of a ride for all of us. But it's time to disappear."

Three people pushed their way to the front of the crowd, just below them. The movement caught Merlin's attention, and he looked down. He froze.  
Right in front of him stood his family. His mother, his father, his uncle, all shouting for him. Merlin caught his mother's gaze, and for a moment he felt like a kid again, being scolded for doing something dangerous. For a moment, all he wanted to do was turn himself in, just to rid that emotion from his mother's eyes.

Then Freya squeezed his hand, and the spell broke.

Never looking away from his family, Merlin choked, "Good night, New York."

"And thank you for believing in us."

And then they were running, still gripping each other's hands. His parents yelled for him to come back. Agent Pendragon screamed "STOP! Freeze!", and raised his gun. Merlin looked away and kept running, not wanting to watch a bullet pierce his skin.

The three remaining Horsemen jumped off the roof and disappeared as a hurricane of money fell from the sky.

* * *

Arthur aimed his gun. He refused to let another one get away. Then Morgana shoved his gun just as he pulled the trigger, sending his bullet off the roof instead of into Emrys' leg.

"Goddamn it!" He roared as the Horsemen leapt gracefully off the roof. And then they were gone, leaving millions of dollar bills in their wake.

Arthur spun to yell at his sister, but one look at her face and he deflated.

"I'm sorry," she said, not sorry at all.

Arthur felt defeated. "No, you were right," he shook his head. "It's bigger than all of us."

Morgana smirked sadly. "This is one time I'm not happy being right."

They watched the money fall from the sky like rain. People jumped into the air to catch some, or risked dropping to the floor to scoop some into their arms. "So I guess this is it." Arthur felt strangely forlorn.

"Is it?" His sister smiled. "I'll see you at Thanksgiving."

Then she disappeared into the crowd. Arthur stared after her for a minute, feeling like a lost child.

He heard someone shout his name, and he turned to see Leon, ragged-looking and carrying four bills. "Arthur!" The redhead handed his friend the bills. "You see that?"

Each bill carried the face of one of The Four Horsemen in place of Presidents. For a moment, Arthur's tired brain couldn't comprehend why this was important. Then- "Where's the real money?"

* * *

Kilgarrah was headed back to his car after The Horsemen's last show, feeling gleeful. They may not have been caught, but showering their audience with money they had stolen only hours before was quite a resolution. Aithusa had asked to stay behind with some friends, so the old man was heading home by himself. Kilgarrah was perfectly fine with that. It gave him some time to write out his next episode, and to contact Nimeuh. He walked through the parking garage, chuckling as he imagined the FBI agents' current expressions. Kilgarrah pulled out his keys as he reached his car, and clicked the remote key.

His car burst open, exploding with cash. Kilgarrah froze in shock as police cars whirled into the parking garage.

"You're under arrest! Hands in the air, now!"

Kilgarrah numbly complied.

* * *

Merlin led his friends out of the subway tunnels and into Times Square. They stopped to look around, amazed. Their faces were on every screen. Merlin felt elated. They had done it. They had escaped, and as a result had become the most famous magicians in the world, for a short time at least.

Sure, they would spend the rest of their lives in hiding, but that seemed like a small price to pay, in comparison.

Merlin could have stared at the screens for hours in awe, but someone was likely to notice them if they stayed there. So Merlin sadly herded his friends away to their next destination. 

* * *

**So. Its's been some time. Sorry, college has kicked my ass. I think I'm getting the hang of it now though. Hopefully.**

 **Anyway, I promise that this story will be finished before the new year. The next (last) chapter has already been edited, and I plan to post it on the 28th.**

 **I've also already started on the rewrite, which will be much more than just a copied script, but I'm not planning to post any of it for quite some time.**

 **See you soon!**


	11. Cineramascope

"I've been framed."

Of course those would be the first words out of his mouth. Arthur rolled his eyes and stepped into the large containment cell. The door shut ominously behind him. "I'm sure you were."

Kilgarrah didn't seem to pick up on Arthur's tone. "Yeah, but I can prove it. I always do. Just like I predicted that you'd play the fool."

Arthur was annoyed. He wanted answers, he wanted to find The Horsemen, and Kilgarrah Drake was making that all very difficult. "Let's just drop the theatricality, alright? The cameras aren't rolling in here." He glanced at the guards. "Fellas, could I have a few minutes with my friend here alone, please?"

The guards left, and then they were alone. Kilgarrah wasted no time. "All right. I've got information to trade. I believe that's how it's done."

Arthur hummed and glanced around the cell. "If it's of some value."

"These bars give a man time to think," the old man began. "And I'm pretty sure I know how they did it."

Arthur glanced at him, only slightly interested.

"Remember the rabbit trick in the second show? The box was never empty, it was just a mirror. The vault wasn't either. After gaining access to the warehouse, The Horsemen left the real safe and transformed the whole room into a giant rabbit box. You go charging in there, thinking the safe was already gone, missing the trick. Again. Which was to make you think the safe had already been stolen, so you'd drop your guard and leave."

Arthur was begrudgingly impressed, if not a bit embarrassed.

"Now, while you were busy playing with balloon animals, someone was breaking into the warehouse."

"Who?"

"Mordred Clarent."

Arthur felt like he was hit with a frying pan. "No. No way. He died right in front of me."

"Unless, of course, he didn't." Kilgarrah grinned. "He escaped in a standard FBI vehicle, right? Led you to the bridge, where the other Horsemen were waiting with an identical replacement car. It only took a split second for you to lose contact with it-"

Arthur was vividly reminded of the bus that had cut in front of him.

"-and make the switch. When you crawled into that burning car, quite heroically, I might add, you almost died trying to rescue what I assume was a cadaver from the morgue."

Arthur shook his head, trying to understand. "Why go through such an elaborate and dangerous plan just to frame one guy?"

Kilgarrah sighed. "I don't know."

"They never kept any of the money they took."

"Yeah, that's the part I haven't been able to figure out yet." Kilgarrah looked frustrated, either with himself or his situation. "But I just gave you information that is substantially more important."

Arthur shook his head. "No, not really."

The old man looked up in surprise. "What?"

"I finally got a chance to really look into Thomas Smith," Arthur informed him. "His comeback attempt. His accident. The insurer who denied the family's claim? Priest Insurance. The bank that carried the note?" Arthur could see Kilgarrah was beginning to understand. "Credit Republicain de Paris. What do you make of that?"

Kilgarrah looked down. "A sucker is born every minute," he muttered, astonished.

Arthur took that as a sign to move on. "So here's my new theory. The legend is that the 'Eye' is everywhere. Waiting for the truly great magicians to distinguish themselves from the mediocre ones. Maybe that was you," he pointed to the old man. "Deep down inside, you wanted nothing more than to be part of the 'Eye', but you were never invited. So you try to destroy them. But instead what happens? You pissed them off."

"The Eye isn't real," Kilgarrah scoffed.

Arthur shrugged. "Okay, then, explain. Who's behind all this?"

"Somebody with an obsession." Kilgarrah was grasping at straws now. "Meticulous."

"Who?"

"Somebody prepared to sacrifice everything. Somebody so prepared to lose that they wouldn't even be a suspect until the trick was done."

"I don't want a profile, I need a name." Arthur snapped his fingers in Kilgarrah's face. "Who? Who?"

"I don't know who. But they had to have access to the warehouse to plant the mirrors." He began to pace. "Always a step ahead of me. And the FBI. Got past them not once, not twice, but consistently. Almost as if they were on the..."

Kilgarrah stared at Arthur, stunned. It took a second, but his words finally connected in Arthur's brain. "Are you saying there was someone-"

"On the inside."

Kilgarrah and Arthur spun. There, just outside the cell, stood Leon.

The redhead nodded. "Hello Arthur."

"You?" Kilgarrah whispered.

Leon hummed.

Events were starting to piece together in Arthur's head, and he thought he might understand, but he still asked, "Why?"

"That is the question, isn't it?" Leon stepped closer. "You're right. I can't tell you how long I've waited to see that look on your face."

"Who are you?" Kilgarrah demanded. "What do you want from me?"

"What do I want?" Leon had a look on his face that was completely foreign to Arthur. "I want you to spend the rest of your life in this cell, staring at four walls and wondering how you missed it. How you let yourself be so blinded by your ego that you convinced yourself that you were one step ahead when you were always two steps behind."

"Leon?" Arthur asked as his friend let him out of the cell. The redhead turned and walked away, and Arthur hurriedly followed.

"Wait a minute. Pendragon! How did this happen?"

They ignored Kilgarrah's calls and disappeared into the shadows. 

* * *

Merlin, Freya, and Alator trekked to the gate, hiding in the shadows and using their flashlights to guide them. They reached the gate to Central Park and Alator tried to push it open. "It's locked," he said.

"Weren't you listening?" Out of the shadows swaggered Mordred. The young man grinned smugly. "Nothing's ever locked."

His teammates cheered. Merlin grinned and waved happily.

"Well done, Mr. Clarent!" Freya smiled as Mordred unlocked the gate. "Good work!"

Alator smirked. "You're a big boy now, Mordred."

They hurried through their reunion, trading hugs and shoulder punches, then stepped into the shadows.

"What if all this was just leading up to us getting mugged in Central Park at 2:00 a.m.?"

"No," Merlin shook his head, waving his flashlight on the trees. "I'm telling you, we're right were he need to be. We just need to find..."

"That?" Freya's light landed on a plaque.

Merlin was filled with an emotion he couldn't name. He had lived in New York his whole life, and yet he had never been able to find this before. He had strolled through Central Park hundreds of times, so how had he missed this? "The Thomas Smith tree," he breathed.

"And the card encased in glass." Freya said reverently.

They stared for a moment, drinking in the sight.

"What do we do now?"

Freya contemplatively pulled her tarot card out of her pocket. The others did the same, pondering. Suddenly, the cards pulled themselves out of The Horsemen's grips and jumped towards each other as if they were strong magnets. They stacked themselves, and then only one card rested in Freya's hand. She shared a startled look with Merlin, then waved the card over the one in the tree. The second card lit up, it's glass case shining.

As if a switch had been pulled, the carousel lit up behind them.

The Horsemen froze, trading startled glances. Then as one, they headed to the carousel. They rounded the corner and stopped.

"Oh, my God," Alator chuckled.

In front of the carousel, silhouetted from behind, stood Leon de Grance.

"I did not see that coming!" Mordred grinned.

Merlin muttered, "That's impossible."

"No way."

Leon grinned at them, never saying a word.

Alator came to his senses first. "That was actually pretty good."

The redhead nodded. "Thank you."

Merlin scrambled for an explanation. "When I said 'Always be the smartest guy in the room'..."

Leon grinned, accepting his feeble apology. "We were in agreement."

"Okay. Right." Merlin nodded numbly, then turned to his best friend. "Freya?"

The brunette was tongue-tied. She looked at Merlin and shook her head, opting not to speak.

Merlin laughed weakly. "I've never seen her speechless."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Leon smiled.

Mordred stepped forward, looking a bit worried. "Hey man, I'm so sorry for kicking your ass. Really."

Leon raised an eyebrow, and Mordred fell back.

Alator took his place. "Hey, listen, for the record, I have always been a 100% believer. And the amount of energy I have expended to keep these infidels on point..."

Freya laughed, slightly hysterical.

Leon waved the bald man down. "Alator, you're in."

"God bless," Alator sighed.

The redhead smiled again, and turned back to the carousel. "Come." He led them to the metal horses. "The real magic is taking four strong solo acts and making them all work together. And that's exactly what you did." He stepped onto the platform and gripped a pole as the carousel began to turn. "So welcome. Welcome to the Eye." And then he disappeared into thin air.

The Horsemen gasped and traded excited glances, then jumped on the carousel. 

* * *

"It was all connected." Arthur plopped down on the bench. Morgana jumped, then spun. She seemed startled to see him, which Arthur supposed was reasonable. He had shown up at a bridge in Paris with no warning, after all. "Credit Republicain. Priest Insurance." He smiled at his sister. "Bonjour."

Morgana raised an eyebrow. "Bonjour. And Elkhorn? What's the connection to Smith?"

"Elkhorn started as a safe manufacturer." Arthur explained. "They used cheap steel, they cut corners. When he got to the bottom of the river, the safe warped. And he was trapped."

Morgana nodded. "I looked him up. He was Gwen's father."

Arthur nodded. Gwen was a family friend, and past fling. Her mother had worked for Leon's father until her death in Gwen's senior year of college. Before all this, Arthur had never known what happened to Gwen's father. He knew, of course, that Gwen and her brother were very close to Leon. In fact, the redhead had once said that he thought of Gwen as a sister.

So, really, Arthur wasn't surprised that he'd gone so far to avenge her.

Arthur explained this all to Morgana, who didn't seem surprised. "So you weren't the mole... Are you now?"

Arthur considered. "...yes."

Morgana nodded. "Why are you telling me all this?" She looked out over the river.

"I know that the logical conclusion for you is to take this case to it's resolution," Arthur said warily, "and for you to turn in me and Leon."

Morgana was silent for a minute. She shrugged. "Yeah. But you know how I feel about resolution and logic." She grinned at her brother. "And you also know that I think some things are best left unexplained."

Arthur felt a part of their relationship piece itself back together. He smiled. "One more secret to lock away."

And together they put a lock on the rail of the bridge, and tossed the key into the Seine. 

* * *

**Well! Finally finished, and just in time for the new year! Thanks for sticking with me, though I know this certainly isn't the best story out there. I've already got a vague outline of the rewrite, which is more inspired by NYSM than a copy of it. I don't expect it to be anywhere near ready to publish until about midsummer at the earliest, however. Sorry in advance.**

 **Once again, thank you all! This is my first completed (published) story, and all the encouragement was incredibly helpful.**

 **I hope everyone has an amazing 2019! Take care of yourselves, and I'll see you soon!**


End file.
